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DOROTHY   FOX 


I  knew  it  would  be  that,"   he  answered 


Page  148 


DOROTHY   FOX 

BY      LOUISA      PARR 


Illustrated  by 

BERTHA    CORSON    DAY 
VIRGINIA  H.   DAVISSON 


PHILADELPHIA    ^    LONDON 
J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY 

MDCCCCI 


COPYRIOHT,  I90I 
BY 

J.  B.  LiPPiNCOTT  Company 


ELECTROTYPEO  AND  PRINTED  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


ciiArrBR  PACB 

I.  The  Fortune  of  War 7 

II.  "Like  the  Prince  and  Princess   in   the   Fairy 

Tales" 19 

III.  At  Kings-heart 32 

IV.  A  Reunion 40 

v.  The  Crewdsons 54 

VI.  Her  Ladyship's  Plans 61 

VII.  JosiAH  Crewdson's  Wooing 71 

VIII.  Liking  and  Loving 82 

IX.  At  Dyne  Court 90 

X.  At  Cross-Purposes 103 

XI.  Abbot's  Walk 114 

XII.  Looking  to  Both  Sides 123 

XIII.  JosiAH  AT  Bay 132 

XIV.  Fryston  Grange 143 

XV.  A  Picnic  at  Dyne  Court 156 

XVI.  The  Sprig  of  Heather 169 

XVII.  Playing  with  Edge-Tools 179 

XVIII.  Harry  Egerton's  Advice 189 

XIX.  Dorothy's  Blush 194 

XX.  Doubtful  Progress 200 

XXI.  Art  and  Nature 210 

XXII.  A  Retreat 222 

XXIII.  Off  and  On 231 

XXIV.  "All  that  is  Right" 238 

XXV.  In  Doubt  and  Grief  and  Hope 249 

XXVI.  Miss  Brocklehurst  speaks  her  Mind 253 

XXVII.  Equal  to  the  Occasion 258 

XXVIII.  "The  Exception  proves  the  Rule" 264 

XXIX.  Best  for  Both 269 

XXX.  "I  should  have  told  Thee" 277 

5 


2137705 


CONTENTS 


CHAFTBR  PACK 

XXXI.  Kezia  plays  the  Spy 286 

XXXII.  Loving  and  Losing 294 

XXXIII.  Explanation  and  Reconciliation 303 

XXXIV.  "What  can  he  want?" 313 

XXXV.  Redcoat  Assurance 321 

XXXVI.  Secret  Uneasiness 330 

XXXVII.  The  Quaker's  Quixotic  Love 334 

XXXVIII.  Two  Ways  of  looking  at  It 340 

XXXIX.  True  to  Each  Other 351 

XL.  Successful  Diplomacy 358 

XLI.  "Which  is  it  to  be?" 367 

XLII.  Lady  Laura  accepts  the  Situation 373 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FAGS 

•*I  KNEW  IT  WOULD  BE  THAT,"  HE  ANSWERED  .   .    Frontispiece. 

His  memory  took  him  back  nearly  forty  years  ago    ...  179 

"Oh,  thou  oughtst  not  to  have  come" 290 

He  did  not  ai-tempt  to  hush  her,  or  to  still  her  sobs  ,   ,  310 


DOROTHY     FOX 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  FORTUNE  OF   WAR 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1856.  The  war  being  at  an 
end,  England  began  to  forget  the  excitement  and  military 
ardour  which  for  two  years  had  pervaded  her  every  nook 
and  corner.  But  at  the  principal  seaports  the  memory 
was  still  kept  alive  by  reckless  soldiers  and  sailors  spend- 
ing their  hard-earned  money,  and  by  their  less  fortunate 
comrades  wandering  about  pale  and  haggard,  some  on 
crutches,  some  in  splints,  waiting  to  hear  the  decision  of 
pension  or  discharge — the  only  two  alternatives  left  for 
them. 

At  the  top  of  one  of  those  narrow  streets  of  the  old 
town  of  Plymouth,  leading  from  the  Barbican,  a  crowd 
•of  sailors,  fish- women,  apprentices  (boys  and  girls),  had 
assembled  to  witness  a  fight.  Through  this  motley  crowd 
a  soldier-like  man  was  almost  vainly  endeavouring  to 
push  his  way.  He  was  pale  and  thin  from  recent  illness, 
and  his  bandaged  arm  showed  the  cause  of  his  suffering. 

"  Good  heavens !"  he  thought ;  "  how  sick  and  faint  I 
feel!  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  the  doctor,  and  not  have 
been  in  such  a  hurry  to  come  out.  I  wonder  if  there  is 
any  place  hereabout  where  I  could  sit  down  for  a  little 
while." 

He  walked  more  rapidly  on  towards  the  Guildhall,  pass- 

7, 


8  DOROTHY   FOX 

ing  a  saddler's,  an  ironmonger's,  a  goldsmith's,  until  he 
came  to  a  shop  with  a  fat  gilt  lamb  hanging  over  the 
door,  and  having  opposite  it  an  old  round  clock,  stretch- 
ing its  face  into  the  street.  Here  a  curious  sensation  came 
over  him,  which  made  the  lamb  and  the  clock's  face  seem 
to  change  places;  and  he  had  just  sense  enough  left  to 
turn  into  the  open  door  and  sink  into  a  chair,  as  a  voice 
reached  him  from  the  distance :  "  How  can  I  serve  thee  ?" 
Then  all  became  still  and  dark  and  blank. 

The  name  of  the  young  man  was  Charles  Verschoyle; 
the  shop  he  had  entered  belonged  to  Nathaniel  Fox,  cloth 
and  woollen  draper ;  and  the  voice  which  inquired,  "  How 
can  I  serve  thee  ?"  came  from  his  daughter  Dorothy,  who, 
while  she  was  speaking,  saw,  to  her  great  terror  and  per- 
plexity, the  stranger's  head  sink  back,  and  a  pallor,  as  of 
death,  spread  itself  over  his  face. 

She  gave  a  little  cry,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  dear !  what 
can  be  the  matter  with  him  ?  And  Mark  away,  and  Judith 
out!    What  shall  I  do?" 

She  then  leaned  across  the  counter,  saying,  in  a  louder 
voice,  "  Friend !  friend !  art  thou  ill  ?"  And  then  some- 
thing she  saw  in  the  white  face  forced  her,  despite  her. 
fear,  to  run  forward  and  put  out  her  arm  to  support  his 
falling  head.  Now,  seeing  his  bandaged  arm,  she  dis- 
missed an  idea  which  had  crossed  her  mind  that,  perhaps, 
he  had  been  drinking.  She  said,  tenderly,  "  Poor  fellow, 
it  is  his  arm  that  has  caused  this  sudden  faintness.  HI 
had  but  some  water,  or  mother's  smelling-salts,  he  would 
most  likely  revive." 

At  this  moment  the  inner  door  of  the  shop  opened,  and 
a  bright-faced,  middle-aged  woman,  with  a  thick-frilled 
white  cap,  appeared. 

"  Oh,  Judith !  Judith !  come  here.  I  am  so  glad  thou 
art  returned.    While  thou  hast  been  away,  see,  this  poor 


DOROTHY   FOX  g 

man  has  come  into  the  shop ;  and  he  has  fainted.  Do  run 
and  get  some  water," 

Before  Judith  obeyed,  she  came  over  to  have  a  closer 
inspection  of  the  sufferer,  saying,  "  Are  you  sure,  now, 
he's  swooning? — it  isn't  tricks  or  drink?"  But,  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  she  continued,  after  looking  at  the 
face,  almost  as  white  as  the  kerchief  against  which  it 
leaned,  "  God  forgive  the  thought !  and  his  poor  broken 
arm  tied  up  to  his  side." 

The  young  man  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Oh,  do  run,  Judith,  and  get  the  water !"  exclaimed 
Dorothy,  anxiously  bending  over  him ;  and  he,  suddenly 
opening  his  eyes,  met  the  earnest  gaze,  took  in  the  childish 
face,  wondered  where  he  was,  then  leaned  his  head  back, 
and  forgot  it  all  again. 

Judith  returned  with  the  water,  and  sprinkled  it  over 
his  face ;  while  Dorothy  chafed  his  hands,  as  she  had  seen 
her  mother  do  to  her  Aunt  Abigail. 

"  Judith,  dost  thou  think  mother  and  father  would  ob- 
ject, if  we  asked  him  to  rest  awhile  on  the  sofa  until  he 
finds  strength  enough  to  walk  home?" 

Judith  looked  dubious.  Master  and  mistress  were 
away.  If  they  had  been  at  home,  she  would  not  have 
hesitated.  And  Mark  was  out  too.  "  No,"  she  thought, 
"  we  had  better  not." 

Dorothy  looked  grave.  "  Thou  might  ask  him  to  stay 
until  Mark  comes.  Then  he  could  fetch  him  a  cab.  It  is 
nearly  five  o'clock;  and  Mark  is  always  here  at  half- 
past." 

Judith  shook  her  head :  she  was  not  certain  whether  it 
was  safe. 

"  Mother  says  we  are  always  to  do  good  one  to 
another,"  persisted  Dorothy ;  "  and  the  text  quoted  last 
First-day  in  Dorcas  Horsenail's  discourse  was,  *  Be  not 


lo  DOROTHY   FOX 

forgetful  to  entertain  strangers ;  for,  thereby,  some  have 
entertained  angels  unawares.' " 

"  Well,  then,  I  wish  this  was  one !"  exclaimed  Judith, 
in  perplexity,  "  and  that  he  would  fly  away ;  for,  as  it  is, 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  him,  and  that's  the  truth." 

"  Hush !"  said  Dorothy,  with  the  double  intention  of 
reproving  Judith's  levity,  and  because  the  stranger  was 
coming  to  himself.  She  shrank  back ;  and  Judith,  finding 
she  was  expected  to  take  the  initiative,  demanded,  "  Are 
you  better,  sir?" 

"Better?  Oh,  yes!"  returned  the  young  man,  with  a 
short  gasp  between  each  sentence.  "  What  has  been  the 
matter?  Where  am  I?  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  giving 
some  trouble." 

"  Indeed,  no,"  said  Dorothy,  coming  forward.  "  I  am 
only  glad  thou  wert  able  to  reach  here." 

"  You  are  both  very  kind,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  quite 
unable  to  thank  you."  And  such  a  soft  expression  came 
into  his  dark  eyes  and  lit  up  his  wan  face,  that  all  Judith's 
former  prudence  gave  way,  and,  to  Dorothy's  great  satis- 
faction, she  begged  he  would  walk  into  the  parlour  behind 
the  shop,  and  rest  on  the  sofa  for  awhile. 

"  Nobody  will  disturb  you  there,  sir.  And  if  you  don't 
feel  strong  enough  to  walk  by  the  time  our  shopman 
comes,  he  can  call  ye  a  cab." 

Thinking  that  she  was  the  mistress  of  the  house,  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  thanked  her,  and  accepting  her  invitation 
and  assistance  (for  he  still  felt  very  unsteady),  he  went 
into  the  substantially  furnished  parlour,  threw  himself  on 
the  large  old-fashioned  sofa,  and  was  asleep  before 
Dorothy  returned  with  the  ginger  cordial  she  had  been 
getting  to  revive  him. 

Very  few  customers  were  likely  to  come  into  the  shop, 
for  Nathaniel  Fox's  business  was  principally  confined  to 


DOROTHY   FOX  ii 

wholesale  and  private  orders.  So,  telling  Judith  she 
would  sit  quietly  until  Mark  returned,  and  she  was  ready, 
Dorothy  seated  herself  in  the  only  approach  to  an  easy- 
chair — one  of  carved  oak,  black,  and  stiff -backed.  Taking 
her  knitting  in  her  hand,  she  furtively  glanced  at  the 
sleeper,  but,  finding  he  was  quite  unconscious,  she  let  her 
hand  drop  idly  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  gaze  earnestly  and 
curiously.  "  He  must  have  been  very  ill,"  she  thought. 
"  How  beautifully  white  his  hand  is !"  and  then  she  re- 
garded the  little  pink-dimpled  pair  which  lay  in  her  own 
lap  with  a  critical  and  rather  dissatisfied  expression. 
"  What  long  eyelashes  he  has !"  and  first  one  eye  and  then 
the  other  is  shut  to  see  if  a  glimpse  of  her  own  can  be 
obtained.  No,  nothing  but  the  tip  of  the  provoking  little 
nose ;  and  her  gaze  falls  again  on  the  young  man  who, 
from  his  bearing,  may  perhaps  be  a  soldier  wounded  in 
the  war.  At  this  thought  she  gives  a  little  shudder,  takes 
up  her  knitting,  and  works  away  most  industriously  for 
fully  ten  minutes.  Then  the  click-click  of  the  needles 
cease,  and  her  thoughts  begin  to  wander.  Her  reverie 
this  time  is  so  deep  that  she  does  not  notice  that  the 
sleeper  has  awakened,  and  is  in  his  turn  attentively  in- 
specting her.  As  she  sat  in  the  old  black  carved  chair, 
in  her  gown  of  soft  grey  stuff,  with  her  rebellious  hair 
(in  spite  of  brushing  and  tight  fastening  up)  twined  into 
little  golden  rings,  her  fair  face,  almost  infantine  in  its 
youthfulness,  gave  such  a  ridiculous  impression  of  prim- 
ness and  juvenescence  that  Captain  Verschoyle  was  re- 
minded of  nothing  so  much  as  of  some  lovely  child  play- 
ing at  being  a  staid  woman. 

The  deep  tones  of  the  Guildhall  clock  striking  six  were 
now  heard,  the  chimes  of  St.  Andrew's  repeated  the  hour, 
and  Judith  softly  opened  the  door,  closing  it  again  as  she 
saw  Dorothy  put  her  finger  to  her  lip.     But  the  dis- 


12     ,  DOROTHY   FOX 

turbance  seemed  to  have  roused  the  young  man,  who 
opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up. 

"  Dost  thou  feel  better  ?"  asked  Dorothy,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  am  all  right  again  now ;  but  you  do  not 
mean  to  say  it  is  six  o'clock?  Why,  what  have  I  been 
thinking  of?  I  had  no  idea  of  going  to  sleep  when  I  sat 
down — not  that  I  am  particularly  clear  about  what  hap- 
pened after  I  reached  here." 

"  Did  thou  feel  ill  suddenly,  or  was  it  thy  intention  to 
come  here?" 

"  No ;  I  was  passing  the  door  when  I  became  quite 
faint." 

"  Thy  arm  doubtless  was  the  cause.  I  see  it  is  band- 
aged," she  said,  with  a  pitiful  voice. 

"  Oh !  my  wound  is  a  mere  scratch,"  replied  Captain 
Verschoyle.  "  I  am  weak  from  fever  and  ague,  and 
though  I  have  been  in  Plymouth  a  month,  this  is  the  first 
time  I  have  ventured  so  far.  The  doctor  advised  me 
against  going  out  to-day,  but  I  thought  I  was  much 
stronger  than  it  seems  I  am.  I  do  not  know  what  would 
have  become  of  me  if  I  hadn't  had  strength  enough  to 
stagger  in  here.  Fate  was  unusually  good  to  send  me 
where  I  should  meet  with  so  much  hospitality.  I  really 
cannot  express  how  very  grateful  I  feel  for  your  kind- 
ness." 

"  Oh !  do  not  speak  of  it,"  said  Dorothy ;  "  I  only  did 
what  mother  would  have  me  do.  Art  thou  sure  that  thou 
art  sufficiently  strong  to  walk  ?  Mark  can  get  thee  a  cab 
in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Thanks ;  I  will  not  trouble  him ;  the  air  may  revive 
me,  for  my  head  is  a  little  heavy."  He  took  out  a  card 
and  gave  it  to  Dorothy,  saying,  "  Will  you  give  my  thanks 
to  your  mother  ?    Good-bye ;"  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Farewell,"  she  said,  giving  him  hers ;   "  and  I  hope 


DOROTHY   FOX  13 

if  thou  should  ever  be  near  and  feel  weary,  thou  wilt  not 
hesitate  to  come  in  and  rest." 

"  Thank  you  very  much."  Again  he  looked  round  the 
shop,  but  seeing  no  one  but  Mark,  he  turned  once  more 
to  Dorothy  and  said,  "  You  will  not  forget  to  give  my 
adieus  and  thanks  to  your  good  mother,"  and  was  gone. 

"  My  good  mother,"  thought  she ;  "  what  does  he 
mean?  Oh!  perhaps  he  thought  that  Judith  was  my 
mother,"  and  she  smiled  as  she  contrasted  the  two.  Then 
she  looked  at  the  card  and  read,  "  Captain  Charles  Eger- 
ton  Verschoyle,  17th  Lancers."  Then  he  was  a  soldier, 
one  of  the  men  belonging  to  a  profession  her  father  and 
friends  generally  condemned.  She  was  still  recalling  all 
the  details  of  this  little  episode  when  Judith  appeared, 
ready  dressed  in  her  shawl  and  bonnet. 

"  Why,  Judith,  art  thou  ready  ?  I  will  not  keep  thee  a 
moment." 

"  That's  right,  dear ;  make  haste,  or  the  omnibus  will 
be  here.  Mark  is  looking  out  for  it  to  pass  the  church 
corner." 

Dorothy  was  soon  down  again,  and  Judith  inquired, 
"  Was  the  young  man  all  right  before  he  left  ?  I  saw  him 
go  as  I  was  putting  on  my  things." 

"  Yes,  but  he  said  he  had  a  headache ;  and,  dost  thou 
know  ?  I  think  he  took  thee  for  mother." 

"  'Twas  like  his  impudence,  then,  not  to  see  you  were  a 
young  lady,  and  his  better  most  like." 

"  Why,  Judith,  how  funny  thou  art !"  laughed  Doro- 
thy ;  "  how  could  he  tell  anything  about  us  ?  And  be- 
sides thou  would'st  make  a  very  nice  mother,  I  think." 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart,"  replied  Judith,  fondly,  "  it's 
a  proud  mother  I'd  be  with  such  a  treasure  as  you  in 
my  keepin';  but  marryin'  ain't  for  the  like  of  me,  child. 
The  only  man  I  ever  looked  with  favour  on,  things  went 


14  DOROTHY   FOX 

bad  with,  and  he  had  to  go  for  a  soldier,  and  whether 
he's  hving  or  dead,  poor  boy,  is  more  than  I  know  now, 
or  perhaps  ever  shall." 

"  That  was  very  sad !"  said  Dorothy,  who  knew  Ju- 
dith's love-story  by  heart.  "  The  young  man  who  was 
faint  was  a  soldier.    He  did  not  look  like  one,  did  he?" 

"  Oh,  they're  all  good-looking  enough,"  returned 
Judith ;  "  and  I'm  not  one  for  sending  them  all  to  the 
bottomless  pit  wholesale,  like  the  master  does;  as  the 
sayin'  is,  '  nobody's  so  black  as  they're  painted  ;*  and 
though  there's  no  soldiers  at  the  Friends'  meetin*,  they 
can't  keep  the  flesh  and  the  devil  out — no,  nor  never  will 
as  long  as  the  members  there  are  men  and  women." 

Happily  the  omnibus  arrived  at  this  moment,  or  Ju- 
dith would  have  given  a  lecture  in  justification  of  her 
speech,  for,  being  a  strict  Methodist,  she  could  not  re- 
sist a  little  hit  now  and  then  at  what  she  considered 
the  Quakers'  spiritual  pride,  much  as  she  approved  of 
them. 

The  Foxes  did  not  live  at  their  place  of  business; 
they  had  a  pleasant  old-fashioned  country-house  near 
Compton  Giffard,  and  thither  the  omnibus  was  now 
carrying  Judith  and  Dorothy,  her  mother  and  father 
being  absent  for  a  few  days.  Dorothy  had  gone  in  the 
morning  to  spend  the  day  with  Judith,  who  attended 
to  the  domestic  duties  of  the  Plymouth  establishment. 
After  leaving  the  omnibus  they  turned  down  a  lane,  at 
the  widest  part  of  which  stood  a  long  white  gate,  shaded 
by  two  thick  elm-trees.  This  was  the  entrance  to  the 
house,  a  rambling  old-fashioned  place,  half  of  it  the 
original  manor  dwelling,  and  the  other  half  added  to  it 
at  various  times,  as  adorning  or  enlarging  was  needed. 
There  was  nothing  at  all  pretentious;  it  only  looked  a 
comfortable,  carefully  kept  house.    Nathaniel  Fox  would 


DOROTHY   FOX  1$ 

have  been  horrified  at  the  idea  of  its  being  thought  any- 
thing but  a  house  becoming  a  well-to-do  tradesman  to 
dwell  in,  yet  more  was  expended  on  it  than  upon  many 
a  country-seat.  Order  and  neatness  reigned  everywhere, 
and  the  gardens  had  a  prim,  old-world  air  that  set  off  to 
advantage  the  gabled  roof,  the  small,  high,  narrow  win- 
dows with  their  diamond  panes,  and  the  fantastic  chim- 
neys, half  wreathed  with  long  sprays  of  ivy  and  Virginia 
creeper. 

Just  now  the  master  and  mistress  were  attending  a 
quarterly  meeting  at  Exeter.  Generally  Cousin  Dymond 
came  and  kept  Dorothy  company  during  these  visits ;  but 
she  was  ill,  and  Dorothy  was  for  the  first  time  left  en- 
tirely alone  with  the  two  maids,  Judith  coming  out  every 
night,  and  seeing  that  all  was  going  on  rightly.  On 
Thursday  or  Friday  her  mother  would  return,  with  such 
a  deal  to  tell  her, — when  Elizabeth  Sparks  was  going  to  be 
married,  and  whether  Josiah  Crewdson  intended  coming 
to  them  on  a  visit.  As  she  sat  at  supper  in  the  old  nursery, 
now  dedicated  to  Judith's  especial  use,  she  speculated  on 
the  probability  of  these  events. 

"  I  wish  father  would  have  given  his  consent  to  my 
being  one  of  Elizabeth's  bridesmaids,  but  he  does  not  ap- 
prove of  their  giving  up  the  dress  of  Friends." 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  answered  Judith,  "  I  quite  hold  with 
him  there,  as  long  as  he  stops  short  of  the  bonnet  and  cap ; 
but  when  I  thought  he  was  going  to  frump  you  up  in  them 
coal-scuttle  things,  I  seemed  to  be  turned  against  the  dress 
entirely." 

"  Oh !  Judith,  I  do  so  hope  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to 
wear  them ;  but  the  Crewdsons  are  so  very  strict.  Thou 
knowest  Josiah  dresses  as  a  Friend.  I  wonder  if  he  is 
coming  here;  father  has  asked  him;"  and  Dorothy  sat 
looking  thoughtfully  for  a  few  minutes,  theil  she  sud- 


i6  DOROTHY   FOX 

denly  demanded,  "  Would  thou  be  very  sorry  for  me  to 
be  married,  Judith  ?" 

"  Would  I  be  sorry  if  I  heard  the  sun  was  never  to 
shine  agen  for  me,  darhn'?"  said  Judith,  fondly;  and 
Dorothy  went  over  and  put  her  arms  round  her  old  nurse's 
neck,  saying,  "  Why  do  people  want  to  get  married  at  all  ? 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  ever  leaving  father  and  mother 
and  thee ;  but  it  will  not  be  for  years  to  come  yet,  I  hope." 

"  Ah,  now !"  exclaimed  Judith,  "  I  won't  have  ye  wait 
too  long.  Grace  was  but  twenty-one,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  have  my  bantling  behind  her." 

"  Oh !  but  Grace  is  so  happy." 

"  Well,  and  so  will  you  be  too.  Mr.  Crewdson  is  a 
worthy,  good  man,  they  all  say,  and  so  he  need  be,  for  it 
wouldn't  be  a  saint  I'd  think  more  than  a  match  for  my 
cosset." 

"  Thou  art  a  foolish,  fond  old  Judith,"  said  Dorothy, 
laughing ;  "  as  mother  says,  thy  vanity  will  spoil  me.  I 
ought  to  be  very  thankful  to  be  chosen  by  one  so  respected 
and  highly  approved  of ;  but  sometimes  I  think,  and  wish 
— oh!  I  cannot  tell  thee  what,  for  I  do  not  know  my- 
self— ^but  there  goes  nine  o'clock,  so  we  must  go  down  for 
reading."  And  they  descended  into  the  dining  room,  and 
the  two  maids  came  in.  Dorothy  read  the  appointed 
chapters  and  an  explanation,  dismissed  them,  and  went 
to  her  room,  attended  by  Judith,  who  persisted  in  con- 
sidering her  as  helpless  as  when  she  was  under  her  special 
care.  Dorothy  Fox  at  nineteen  was  both  older  and 
younger  than  most  girls  of  her  age.  When  she  was  only 
ten,  Grace,  her  half-sister,  had  married,  and  she  had  no 
brothers  or  sisters  of  her  own.  She  was  her  mother's 
constant  companion,  and  the  only  society  she  saw  was 
composed  of  people  much  older  than  herself,  whose  con- 
versation was  principally  confined  to  the  proceedings  of 


DOROTHY   FOX  17 

the  Friends.  For  some  years  past  a  great  revolution  in 
their  ideas  had  set  in,  causing  much  division  among  them. 
The  younger  members  were  beginning  to  object  strongly 
to  the  peculiar  dress  and  mode  of  speech ;  and  while  they 
fondly  approved  of  the  faith  in  which  they  had  been 
nurtured,  they  made  a  stand  against  being  so  entirely  shut 
out  from  amusements  in  which  they  considered  they 
might  join  without  harm  to  themselves,  or  scandal  to  the 
profession  they  made. 

Dorothy's  father  had  seen  with  pain  his  eldest  daughter 
and  her  husband  become  leaders  in  the  new  school.  This 
made  him  doubly  anxious  that  Dorothy  should  unite  her- 
self to  a  man  who  had  been  brought  up  like  herself  to  hold 
firmly  to  every  principle  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and 
look  with  displeasure  upon  any  innovation.  And  all  these 
good  qualities  he  found  in  Josiah  Crewdson,  the  son  of 
an  old  friend  of  his.  For  many  years  an  alliance  between 
the  young  people  had  been  the  sincere  desire  of  the  two 
fathers.  Old  Stephen  Crewdson  had  died  about  two  sum- 
mers before,  but  not  until  he  had  made  known  his  wishes 
to  his  son,  and  counselled  him  to  carry  them  out.  A 
few  months  back  Nathaniel  had,  with  Josiah's  knowledge, 
spoken  to  Dorothy,  and  she  had  promised  him  that  if  it 
were  possible  she  would  not  place  any  obstacle  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  desire.  She  had  not  seen  Josiah  since 
she  was  a  child;  but  she  had  heard  a  great  deal  about 
him,  so  perhaps  she  should  like  him.  Of  course,  as  father 
wished  it,  she  would  try,  and  then,  except  when  some 
special  event,  such  as  his  forthcoming  visit,  called  it  up, 
the  thing  almost  seemed  to  die  out  of  her  memory. 

Her  mother  was  the  only  person  who  raised  any  objec- 
tion. She  had  recently  seen  Josiah  at  York,  and  it  did 
not  seem  to  her  that  he  possessed  many  qualities  to  win 
a  young  girl's  heart — particularly  such  a  girl  as  Dorothy, 
^  2 


i8  DOROTHY   FOX 

who,  in  spite  of  all  the  repression  of  her  education,  pos- 
sessed an  extra  share  of  idealism  and  romance,  mixed 
with  much  strength  of  will  and  purpose.  Patience  knew 
her  daughter's  character  well  enough  to  feel  that  love  was 
a  necessity  to  its  perfection.  Then,  again,  she  could  not 
help  saying  to  herself,  "  Surely  such  a  face  might  win 
any  heart." 

Few  persons  who  casually  met  the  young  Quaker  passed 
her  without  turning  again  to  look  at  her  sweet  beauty; 
but  to  those  who  could  watch  her,  look  into  her  earnest 
brown  eyes,  shaded  by  their  long  dark  lashes — to  those 
who  loved  her  and  whom  she  loved,  Dorothy's  face  was 
the  dearest,  most  winning  face  in  all  the  world.  She  was 
full  of  gaiety,  admiring  all  that  was  beautiful,  and  de- 
lighting in  sweet  sounds  and  gay  colours,  in  which  she 
longed  to  deck  herself.  Her  life  hitherto  had  been, 
though  happy  and  contented,  quiet  to  excess.  Since  she 
had  stayed  a  few  days  at  Fryston  with  her  sister,  she  had 
felt  much  more  curiosity  about  the  world  beyond  her  own 
home.  She  was  not  quite  certain  she  felt  so  thankful,  as 
her  father  daily  expressed  himself,  that  the  world  was 
unknown  to  him  and  his  family.  She  would  have  liked 
rather  to  see  a  little  more  of  it ;  but  perhaps  all  this  was 
wrong.  So  she  checked  the  natural  desire  one  minute 
only  to  renew  her  wandering  into  some  fresh  subject  the 
next,  until  she  was  lost  in  dreams  of  a  world  fashioned 
after  her  own  young  imagination, — a.  sweet  garden  of 
Eden  all  roses  and  rose-coloured. 


CHAPTER   II 

"  like  the  prince  and  princess  in  the  fairy 
tales" 

As  Captain  Verschoyle  walked  through  the  busy 
streets,  after  leaving  Nathaniel  Fox's  shop,  he  felt  that 
though  the  cool  summer  air  fanned  his  hot  head,  it  sent  a 
shiver  through  the  rest  of  his  body.  Still  he  thought  it 
would  be  better  to  walk  for  a  little  distance  than  to  ride 
at  once ;  so  he  proceeded  at  a  tolerably  brisk  pace  until  he 
came  to  the  little  toll-gate,  from  which  he  could  see  the 
hospital,  though  how  to  get  to  it  did  not  exactly  occur  to 
him. 

"  Why,  sir !"  replied  the  toll-man,  in  answer  to  his  in- 
quiry, "  you've  come  a  brave  bit  out  of  your  way.  You 
should  have  gone  up  Eldad-hill,  and  round  by  No-place ; 
but  there — your  leg  ain't  in  a  sling,  though  your  arm  may 
be,  so  ten  minutes  one  way  or  t'other  won't  make  much 
odds.  You  go  straight  on  till  you  come  to  a  little  g^te, 
and  then  through  the  path,  on  to  the  posts,  through  they, 
and  up  a  lane,  past  the  Rectory,  and  up  another  lane,  and 
there  you  be  with  the  gates  right  before  you.  You  can't 
miss  it,  if  you  mind  what  I've  told  you." 

The  consequence  of  this  direction  was  that  the  young 
man  did  not  find  the  gates  right  before  him  until  the 
heavy  dews  were  falling  thick  and  wetting  the  grass  he 
was  obliged  to  walk  through.  The  old  doctor  shook  his 
head  at  him,  and  advised  him  to  get  off  to  bed  as  soon  as 
possible.  Captain  Verschoyle  stoutly  held  to  it  that  he 
should  be  all  right  by  the  morning,  and  able  to  go  out  the 
next  day — when  it  had  been  decided  he  should  have  his 

19 


20  DOROTHY   FOX 

discharge.  Yet  the  next  discharging  day  to  that  went  by 
and  found  him  still  an  inmate  of  the  hospital  suffering 
from  another  feverish  attack,  which,  though  slight,  had 
kept  him  from  joining  his  mother  and  sister  at  Exeter, 
and  going  with  them  to  Shilston  Hall,  as  he  had  pre- 
viously arranged  to  do.  This  fresh  illness  had  upset  all 
his  plans,  and  now  it  would  be  quite  another  week  before 
he  could  leave  the  hospital.  No  wonder,  then,  he  was 
sitting  rather  ruefully  when  his  man  brought  him  this 
letter : 

"  My  dear  Charlie, — It  is  some  days  since  we  heard  from 
you,  and  I  cannot  help  thinking  you  are  worse  than  you  say.  You 
do  not  know  how  I  long  to  see  you,  nor  how  disappointed  I  was 
to  find  you  were  not  at  Exeter  to  meet  us.  As  we  have  old 
Marshall  with  us,  I  have  begged  mamma  to  let  her  go  with  me  to 
see  you,  and  she  has  consented.  So  I  am  coming,  and  you  may 
expect  me  to-morrow.  You  dear  old  thing!  I  hope  you  are  not 
really  worse,  and  that  you  will  be  glad  to  see  your  loving  sister, 

"  Audrey." 

"  Bless  her  heart !"  exclaimed  Captain  Verschoyle ; 
"  glad  to  see  her,  I  should  think  I  should  be,  for  I  began 
to  feel  as  if  my  coming  home  couldn't  make  much  differ- 
ence to  any  one." 

"  Here,  Hallet !"  to  his  servant,  "  I  expect  a  lady  to  see 
me ;  go  down  to  the  gates  and  watch  for  a  cab  driving  up, 
and  when  they  ask  for  me,  tell  Miss  Verschoyle  you  are 
my  servant  waiting  to  show  her  the  way  to  my  quarters ; 
but  first,  just  see  all  straight  here." 

"  Yes,  sir ;"  and  the  man  left,  and  his  master  drew  a 
chair  to  the  window  where  he  might  be  able  to  catch  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  his  visitors  before  they  entered  the 
building.  Everything  looked  very  much  brighter  than  it 
had  done  an  hour  before.  It  was  so  pleasant  to  know 
somebody  was  coming  who  would  make  him  feel  he  was 


DOROTHY   FOX  2t 

at  home  again.  Why,  except  that  good  motherly  shop- 
keeper and  her  pretty  daughter,  no  woman  had  spoken 
to  him  since  his  return;  and  then  he  smiled  to  himself 
to  think  how,  through  the  dreams  resulting  from  the 
drugged  sleep  and  subsequent  wanderings  of  the  fever, 
he  had  been  haunted  by  the  quaint  grey  figure.  "  I  sup- 
pose," he  thought,  "  the  brain  is  acted  upon  by  its  last 
vivid  impression.  Well !  I'm  glad  mine  was  such  a  pleas- 
ant one,  for  the  child  was  very  pretty, — not  a  bit  like  the 
mother.  Past  two  o'clock.  I  hope  nothing  has  pre- 
vented Audrey  coming,  I  should  be  so  disappointed." 
But  before  he  had  time  for  more  reflection  he  heard  a 
rustle,  a  sound  of  voices,  the  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
his  sister  had  her  arms  round  his  neck. 

"  Oh,  how  good  it  is  to  feel  you  are  safe  back  once 
more !"  she  exclaimed  after  a  few  moments ;  then  giving 
him  another  great  hug,  "  I  did  not  know  I  loved  you  so 
much,  Charlie,  until  I  thought  we  might  never  meet  again. 
Now,  let  me  have  a  good  look  at  you.  Well,  you  are  thin 
and  pale,  of  course,  but  you  are  just  as  good-looking  as 
ever." 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughed.  ' "  You  are  just  the  same, 
Audrey,  thinking  of  good  looks  at  once.  I  verily  believe 
if  I  were  going  to  execution  you  would  be  anxious  that  my 
personal  appearance  should  be  all  you  desire." 

"  Of  course  I  should.  Why,  what  have  we  to  trade 
upon  but  our  family  and  good  looks?  And  now  tell  me 
about  my  own  appearance:  I'm  dying  to  hear.  I  have 
not  fallen  off?" 

"You  peacock!"  exclaimed  her  brother;  "you  know 
you  are  as  handsome  as  ever.  How  is  it  you  are  not  mar- 
ried?" 

"  Ah,  the  universal  question !"  she  replied.  "  Because 
—■because — because  I  am  not;   but  don't  Ipok  so  grave. 


•22  DOROTHY   FOX 

for  I  am  seriously  thinking  of  it,  and  am  busy  weaving 
a  snare  into  which  my  bird  will  most  certainly  fall.  Why, 
I  am  eight-and-twenty,  Charles, — an  awful  age  for  a 
spinster.  You  cannot  imagine  my  feelings  every  time  I 
see  Aunt  Spencer,  and  hear  her  invariable,  *  Audrey,  my 
dear,  excuse  my  saying  it,  but  it's  quite  time  you  were 
married.*  And  then  people  are  beginning  to  appeal  to  my 
memory  in  the  most  inconvenient  manner,  saying,  '  You 
must  remember  that.  Miss  Verschoyle ;  it  isn't  more  than 
ten  years  ago  since  it  happened,'  Why  do  we  ever  grow 
old,  Charlie  ?  It  does  not  matter  for  men,  but  for  women, 
oh,  dear,  dear !  However,  mamma  has  a  splendid  scheme 
on  hand, — a  millionaire  for  me,  and  an  heiress  for  you; 
and  I'm  sure  you'll  succeed,  for  nothing  wins  a  woman's 
heart  like  a  warrior  bold,  pale  and  wounded." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  you  have  settled  my  fate  for  me,"  said 
Captain  Verschoyle,  "  for  I'm  thoroughly  home-sick,  and 
want  to  settle  down.  So  as  long  as  I  have  no  trouble  in 
the  matter,  I'm  prepared  to  go  in  and  win ;  that  is,  if  she's 
anything  decent,  hasn't  a  hump,  or  a  squint,  and  isn't 
forty." 

"  Oh,  no !  she's  very  nice,"  replied  Audrey,  "  and  is 
young  and  foolish.  The  latter  may  be  a  recommendation. 
And  now  to  tell  you  all  about  mamma.  First  and  fore- 
most, she  sent  you  her  dearest  love  and  a  kiss,  then  she 
desired  you  would  have  camphor  put  among  your  clothes 
for  fear  of  bringing  home  infection ;  next,  that  nothing 
but  her  wretched  health  and  weak  nerves  prevented  her 
coming  to  see  you;  and  lastly,  she  begs  you  will  have 
your  hair  cut  at  once,  or  it  may  fall  off  and  leave  you 
prematurely  bald." 

Captain  Verschoyle  smiled,  saying,  "  Ah,  I  see  you  go 
on  as  usual !    How  is  the  old  lady?" 
^    "Why,  a  great  deal  better  than  she  would  be  if  she 


DOROTHY   FOX  ^3 

heard  her  beloved  son  inquire  after  her  by  that  oppro- 
brious title.  Yes,  we  squabble,  and  I  am  rude,  and  peni- 
tent, just  as  I  used  to  be,  and  get  caressed  and  appealed 
to  in  public  and  scolded  and  snubbed  in  private.  But  it 
really  is  more  my  fault  than  hers.  I  did  not  want  to  go 
to  Shilston  Hall,  but  to  come  on  here  to  you.  However, 
mamma  said  she  could  not  afford  it,  though  it  would  not 
have  cost  much.  I  detest  Shilston,  and  the  Brocklehursts 
are  such  a  set — every  one  of  them  possessed  of  an  entire 
and  peculiar  meanness,  and  each  trying  for  the  old  lady's 
money  by  setting  her  against  the  rest  of  the  competitors. 
One  of  the  most  powerful  arguments  in  my  favour  was, 
that  I  had  had  a  tilt  with  her,  and  I  told  mamma  a  day's 
absence  was  the  only  chance  I  had  left.  That  reminds 
me  I  must  call  Marshall  in  and  decide  about  the  train  to 
return  by." 

"  Return,"  echoed  Captain  Verschoyle.  "  Why  must 
you  go  back?  I  cannot  get  away  from  here  for  four 
days,  and  if  we  could  spend  them  together  it  would  be 
quite  a  holiday ;  and  this  is  such  a  pretty  place.  Hallett 
could  get  lodgings  for  you  and  Marshall  close  by,  and  I 
can  get  out  all  day.  What  do  you  say  ?  Would  you  mind 
staying  ?" 

"  Mind  it !"  said  Audrey ;  "  why,  I  should  like  it  of  all 
things,  but  how  can  we  manage  it?  Shall  we  call  Mar- 
shall in  and  hear  her  ideas  ?  I  left  her  in  the  next  room." 
So  she  opened  the  door  and  admitted  Marshall,  a  small 
thin  woman,  who  had  been  Audrey's  maid  since  she  was  a 
child,  and  therefore  knew  Captain  Verschoyle  well 
enough  to  shake  his  hand  and  heartily  hope  he  was  gain- 
ing strength.  After  the  due  inquiries  had  been  made, 
Audrey  told  her  the  plan  they  had  in  view. 

"  Now,  Miss  M.,  give  me  the  benefit  of  your  wise  head, 
and  tell  me  what's  the  best  thing  to  do." 


24  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Well,  Miss,  what  have  you  made  up  your  mind  to 
do?"  said  Marshall. 

"  Why,  to  stay,  of  course,"  replied  her  mistress ;  "  only 
mamma  is  sure  to  object,  you  know;  so  how  can  we 
manage  ?" 

"  Well,  Miss,  thinking  if  Captain  Charles  was  very  ill 
you  might  remain,  I'm  prepared  with  your  bag  for  one 
night;  after  that  I  suppose  I  must  go  back  to  Shilston 
for  some  more  things,  though  I  know  her  ladyship  will 
be  terribly  put  out  with  me." 

"  I  have  it,"  exclaimed  Captain  Verschoyle.  "  I  will 
send  Hallet  off  by  the  next  train,  telling  mamma  I  won't 
let  you  go,  and  that  she  must  let  you  stay,  or  I  shall  never 
get  well;  that  I  will  take  care  of  you,  see  you  are  com- 
fortably lodged,  and  pay  all  the  expenses." 

This  plan  meeting  with  universal  approbation,  Hallett 
was  called  to  receive  his  orders ;  and  during  the  two  hours 
he  had  to  spare  before  starting  he  was  desired  to  take 
Mrs.  Marshall  and  seek  lodgings  in  the  village  close  by. 
Captain  Verschoyle  went  to  see  what  arrangements  he 
could  make  for  giving  them  some  refreshments,  and 
Audrey  was  left  to  herself. 

She  took  a  survey  of  the  room,  opened  a  book  or  two 
lying  on  the  table,  and  then  stood  at  the  window  looking 
at  the  picturesque  Dutch  sort  of  view  of  the  neighbouring 
town.  Was  it  because  in  this  scantily  furnished  room 
there  was  nothing  to  arrest  attention,  that  Audrey  Ver- 
schoyle looked  such  a  striking  object?  No.  Had  you  seen 
her  surrounded  by  luxury  and  magnificence,  it  would 
have  been  the  same.  She  possessed  a  something  that,  no 
matter  where  she  was  or  in  what  company,  you  singled 
her  out,  and  wondered  who  she  could  be.  Not  that  she 
was  particularly  beautiful.  Indeed,  many  laughed  when 
they  heard  her  good  looks  brought  forward  as  a  reason 


DOROTHY   FOX  25 

for  the  attention  she  received,  notwithstanding  her  won- 
derful eyes  and  tall,  graceful  figure.  After  you  had 
talked  to  her,  however,  you  were  generally  fascinated. 
She  seemed  to  speak  and  move  exactly  as  you  desired — 
to  satisfy  your  admiration,  and  make  you  constantly  think 
she  was  the  most  elegant  woman  you  had  ever  seen.  But 
one  thing  struck  every  one:  that  she  must  always  have 
been  a  woman,  never  a  girl  with  thoughtless,  winning 
ways,  never  a  child  with  gleeful,  boisterous  mirth.  Yes, 
Audrey  was  always  a  thorough-bred,  self-possessed 
woman,  who  studied  every  art  by  which  she  could  make 
herself  fascinating,  who  valued  without  overrating  each 
attraction  she  commanded,  and  who  could  give  her  rivals 
all  credit  for  the  charms  they  possessed,  inasmuch  as  she 
exactly  estimated  her  own  power  to  compete  with  them. 
Her  sprightly  wit  made  her  a  delightful  companion,  and 
after  she  had  been  amusing  you  through  a  long  conversa- 
tion, her  tact  would  cause  you  to  leave  feeling  that  she  had 
been  equally  interested  and  was  as  sorry  to  part  from  you 
as  you  were  to  go  from  her.  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
many  a  man  and  woman  who  had  been  perfectly  fasci- 
nated by  Audrey  Verschoyle  sighed  when  she  left  them — 
sighed  to  think  what  a  sacrifice  of  happiness  these  per- 
fections had  cost  her — felt  sure  that  times  often  came 
when  she  wearily  longed  for  the  great  happiness  without 
which  all  women's  lives  must  be  crownless — some  one  to 
love.  Not  to  love  her  alone,  for  many  a  heart  had  been 
offered  to  her,  but  some  one  to  whose  love  her  own  heart 
could  respond.  She  used  to  say,  "  Love,  you  know,  is  a 
luxury  for  the  rich  and  poor  only;  we  who  stand  on 
middle  ground  must  be  content  to  live  without  it."  And 
apparently  she  had  contrived  to  live  without  it  happily 
enough.  She  had  had  her  disappointments, — elder  sons 
who  had  seemed  secured  had  suddenly  seceded  to  some 


26  DOROTHY   FOX 

country  hoyden  or  beauty  fresh  from  the  school-room; 
rich  bachelors  who,  on  the  very  eve  of  triumph,  had  taken 
fright  and  flight  and  so  kept  their  liberty;  wealthy  old 
men  whom  death  had  snatched  from  their  would-be  bride. 
Still  Audrey  carried  all  off  with  a  high  hand,  openly 
expressing  her  disappointment  and  chagrin,  always  laugh- 
ingly saying,  "  People  should  marry  for  what  they  value 
most,  and  I  value  nothing  so  much  as  fine  houses,  and 
carriages,  and  clothes,  money  and  position;  and  as  fate 
has  ordained  that  these  good  things  shall  not  be  my  por- 
tion during  my  single  state,  why  I  must  try  and  get  them 
by  my  own  exertions,  and  I  shall  appreciate  them  so 
thoroughly  that  I  am  certain  to  make  an  excellent  wife 
to  whoever  is  good  enough  to  bestow  any  or  all  upon 
me." 

Perhaps  there  was  some  excuse  for  Miss  Verschoyle's 
love  of  money,  for  ever  since  she  could  remember,  it  had 
been  the  thing  lamented  and  longed  for  at  home.  Colonel 
Verschoyle  was  a  younger  son  of  a  very  good  family.  He 
had  been  brought  up  in  luxury,  so  that  extravagance  was 
habit  to  him.  He  spent  every  farthing  of  his  rather 
liberal  allowance  on  himself.  He  went  into  the  best 
society,  mixed  with  people  who  either  had  large  incomes, 
or  lived  as  if  they  had  them,  went  wherever  it  was  the 
fashion  to  go,  did  whatever  it  was  the  fashion  to  do,  and 
one  season,  it  being  the  fashion  to  fall  in  love,  fell  in  love 
with  Lady  Laura  Granville.  He  proposed  to  her  and  was 
accepted.  Lady  Laura  had  always  been  allowed  to  have 
her  own  way,  and  she  would  not  be  ruled  in  the  choice  of 
a  husband.  She  had  no  idea  of  the  value  of  money,  and 
as  she  saw  Colonel  Verschoyle  could  supply  all  his  own 
wants,  she  thought  he  would  be  able  to  give  her  all  she 
had  been  accustomed  to.  Her  father  the  more  readily 
yielded  to  her  wishes,  from  the  fact  that  a  failure  on  the 


DOROTHY   FOX  27 

turf  had  ruined  him  and  made  it  highly  desirable  that  he 
should  speedily  break  up  his  establishment  and  retire 
abroad.  After  their  marriage,  notwithstanding  they  both 
talked  a  great  deal  of  the  economy  they  intended  prac- 
tising, each  felt  it  very  hard  to  make  any  the  least  per- 
sonal sacrifice.  Colonel  Verschoyle  did  not  find  domestic 
happiness  a  sufficient  compensation  for  the  horses  he  had 
to  give  up,  or  the  club  he  could  no  longer  afford  to  belong 
to ;  and  Lady  Laura,  in  her  turn,  yawned  and  felt  weary 
at  the  end  of  a  quiet  tete-a-tete  evening,  on  which  she  had 
been  obliged  to  send  a  refusal  to  some  dinner  party  or 
ball,  because  another  new  dress  could  not  be  afforded. 
As  time  went  on  the  birth  of  a  son  and  daughter  increased 
their  expenses ;  and  the  struggle  to  compete  and  keep  up 
an  appearance  due  to  the  set  in  which  they  mixed  became 
more  apparent  and  irksome,  leading  to  constant  bickerings 
between  the  husband  and  wife.  Charles  had  seen  little 
of  this,  being  at  school  during  his  boyhood,  and  then 
going  at  once  into  the  army ;  but  Audrey  had  felt  it  bit- 
terly, had  seen  with  the  keenness  of  a  child's  intuitive 
sense  of  fairness  how  selfish  her  father  often  was,  and 
how  deceitful  her  mother  proved  to  be.  Regarding  the 
want  of  money  as  the  cause  of  all  this  evil,  she  determined 
at  a  very  early  age  that  when  she  entered  into  the  world, 
wealth  should  be  her  chief  object. 

"  I  have  mamma's  experience  before  me,"  she  used  to 
say ;  "  hers  was  a  love-match,  and  it  proves  that  love 
without  money  cannot  give  happiness;  but  money  with- 
out love,  though  it  may  not  give  happiness,  can  give  many 
things  which  enable  you  to  bear  your  life  very  con- 
tentedly." 

Colonel  Verschoyle  had  been  dead  ten  years,  and  Lady 
Laura's  income  as  a  widow  was  tolerably  good,  or  would 
have  been  had  she  been  contented  to  live  quietly  without 


28  DOROTHY   FOX 

straining  to  give  the  world  an  impression  that  she  pos- 
sessed double  the  sum  she  had.  The  fact  that  Audrey  was 
still  unmarried  was  a  sore  disappointment  to  her  mother, 
and  every  year  her  mortification  increased.  She  detested 
girls  who  had  the  slightest  pretentions  to  beauty,  and  if 
she  could  insidiously  depreciate  any  one  whom  she  re- 
garded as  her  daughter's  rival,  she  never  missed  an  op- 
portunity of  doing  so.  This  weakness  in  turn  annoyed 
and  amused  Audrey,  who  with  all  her  failings  had  not  a 
trace  of  meanness.  She  delighted  in  a  thrust-and-parry 
encounter  with  any  girl  whose  object  in  life  she  considered 
to  be  the  same  as  her  own;  and  as  long  as  they  were 
together,  often  tipped  her  arrows  with  a  little  covert, 
lady-like  venom.  But  let  them  part,  and  her  rival  was 
quite  safe  from  Audrey;  and  woe  betide  the  man  who, 
presuming  on  the  too  frequent  foible  of  a  woman,  pre- 
sented her  with  a  dish  of  flattery  at  her  adversary's  ex- 
pense, or,  while  paying  her  a  string  of  compliments,  de- 
preciated the  absent  one's  recognised  advantages. 

Lady  Laura  was  as  selfish  with  her  children  as  she 
had  been  with  her  husband.  Audrey  might  positively  re- 
fuse to  go  somewhere,  or  to  do  something  on  which  Lady 
Laura  had  set  her  heart,  but,  as  she  said,  "  she  had  always 
in  the  end  to  give  in  to  mamma ;"  for  when  argument  and 
threats  failed.  Lady  Laura  had  her  delicate  health  and 
shattered  nerves  to  fall  back  upon ;  and  they  were  the 
result,  according  to  herself,  of  a  life  devoted  to  her  un- 
grateful daughter.  Her  great  love  was  centred  in 
Charles ;  she  seemed  to  look  upon  the  two  from  perfectly 
distinct  points.  Her  son  had  been  given  her  to  love ;  her 
daughter  had  been  given  her  to  marry.  True,  even  her 
love  for  him  could  not  overcome  her  rooted  dread  of  in- 
fection :  gladly  would  she  have  gone  to  him,  but  the  very 
name  of  hospital  conjured  up  horrid  visions  of  fever  and 


DOROTHY   FOX  29 

small-pox ;  and  though  she  had,  after  much  pleading  and 
entreaty,  allowed  Audrey  to  go  to  see  her  brother,  she 
was  terrified  she  might  catch  some  of  those  horrid  com- 
plaints during  her  visit ;  and,  as  she  put  it,  "  a  serious 
illness  at  Audrey's  age  would  blight  her  prospects  for 
ever,  ruin  her  complexion  and  her  hair,  and  make  her 
look  quite  plain  and  old ;  and  then,  perhaps,  she'd  become 
a  district  visitor  or  a  sister  of  mercy,  for  there  was  no 
knowing  what  peculiar  things  girls  would  consider  their 
vocation  when  all  their  good  looks  had  vanished."  So 
she  began  to  heartily  regret  she  had  let  Audrey  go,  and  to 
half  wish  she  had  gone  herself  and  seen  after  her  dear 
boy.  Miss  Brocklehurst  comforted  her  by  saying  that 
Audrey  had  considerably  raised  herself  in  her  opinion, 
and  if  she  considered  it  right  to  stay  with  her  brother 
instead  of  returning  for  the  bazaar  and  flower-show,  she 
would  see  that  she  was  not  a  loser  in  the  end.  This 
declaration  from  a  lady  who,  as  compensation  for  all  the 
caprices  and  disagreeable  humours  she  saw  fit  to  inflict 
on  her  relations,  had  announced  her  intention  of  leaving 
fifty  thousand  pounds  to  the  one  who  treated  her  best, 
filled  Lady  Laura  with  joy.  In  her  imagination  Audrey 
was  already  an  heiress,  spending  her  income  under  her 
mother's  sole  direction  and  management.  Lady  Laura 
was  thus  in  a  frame  of  mind  that  made  Hallett's  task  a 
very  easy  one.  He  accordingly  left  under  the  impression 
that  Marshall  was  the  most  wrong-sighted  and  prejudiced 
of  her  sex,  and  that  "  it's  no  good  trying  to  please  women, 
for  anybody  who'd  call  master's  mother  a  dragon  of  a 
temper — well!  he  wished  they'd  had  a  taste  of  two  or 
three  of  the  tempers  he  had  had  to  put  up  with  in  his 
day." 

Before  an  hour  had  elapsed  Captain  Verschoyle  had 
joined  his  sister,  and  Marshall  had  returned  to  announce 


30  DOROTHY   FOX 

that  they  had  found  some  rooms  which  would  suit  them 
in  Paradise  Row,  close  by;  and  if  they  liked,  that  the 
landlady  would  see  about  getting  them  a  substantial  tea 
at  once. 

"  Oh !  that  would  be  much  nicer,  Charles,  than  having 
anything  here ;  and  as  it  will  be  quite  early,  we  can  take 
a  stroll  or  drive  together  after." 

Captain  Verschoyle  being  no  longer  under  strict  sur- 
veillance as  an  invalid,  soon  made  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  going  out.  Hallett  received  his  orders  and  de- 
parted for  Shilston  laden  with  messages  and  instructions 
from  Marshall,  and  two  notes  from  his  master,  one  to 
Lady  Laura  and  the  other  to  her  hostess  and  cousin  Miss 
Brocklehurst.  Marshall  hurried  away  to  give  all  neces- 
sary instructions  about  the  tea,  and  the  brother  and  sister 
leisurely  followed,  pleasantly  chatting  together. 

Audrey  laughed  incredulously  at  her  brother's  desire 
for  home  and  quiet.  "  Why,  my  dear  Charlie,  your  state 
is  really  a  most  dangerous  one.  It  would  take  very  little 
to  make  you  fall  romantically  in  love  with  some  charm- 
ing creature  (who  of  course  would  not  have  a  penny), 
and  to  imagine  you  could  spend  the  rest  of  your  life 
lapped  in  the  delights  of  domestic  felicity  and  the  luxuries 
which  eight  hundred  pounds  a  year  would  give  you. 
Mamma's  heiress  will  prove  an  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence— she  is  just  the  girl  for  you  to  meet  in  a  country 
house  in  your  present  frame  of  mind — she  is  so  pale  and 
fragile  looking.  Then,  from  having  had  every  other  want 
supplied,  love  is  sure  to  be  the  one  wish  of  her  life;  she 
will  adore  you,  and  you  will  gracefully  consent  to  be 
worshipped ;  she  will  beg  you  to  accept  her  fortune,  call- 
ing it  a  cipher  compared  with  the  treasure  you  have  given 
her  in  your  love.  And  you  will  accept  her  fifty  thousand 
pounds,  and  while  pressing  her  to  your  heart,  lament  she 


DOROTHY    FOX  31 

is  not  penniless  that  you  might  show  her  your  disinter- 
ested love  is  for  herself  alone." 

"  Most  dramatically  drawn,"  laughed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle,  "  and  not  altogether  an  unpleasing  picture,  for 
even  now  I  should  require  little  short  of  an  angel  to  recon- 
cile me  to  love  in  a  cottage  on  a  limited  income ;  so,  may 
your  foreshadowings  prove  true,  sister  of  mine.  Oh! 
here  is  Marshall.  I  suppose  we  have  reached  our  des- 
tination." 

They  turned  into  the  open  gate,  and  followed  Marshall 
into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs  to  an  old-fashioned  bow- 
windowed  drawing-room,  the  ornaments  of  which  seemed 
collected  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  There  were 
dangerous  weapons  of  savage  life,  dainty  carvings  and 
grotesque  josses,  curious  shells,  gaudy  feather  flowers, 
cases  of  stuffed  tropical  birds,  and  rare  China  bowls  and 
vases — all  contrasting  oddly  with  the  well-^vorn  carpet 
and  somewhat  over-substantially  made  furniture.  The 
table  was  set  out  for  tea  with  whatever  could  be  procured 
for  an  impromptu  meal.  Altogether  the  room  looked 
quaint  and  homely,  and  quite  different  from*  anything 
Audrey  had  ever  seen. 

"  I  hope.  Miss,"  said  the  smiling,  good-natured-looking 
landlady,  "  you'll  try  and  make  yourself  comfortable,  and 
ask  for  everything  you  want,  and  tell  me  all  you  don't 
like,  and  then  we  shall  soon  know  each  other's  ways." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Audrey ;  then  throwing  herself  into 
a  chair,  she  exclaimed,  "  For  four  days,  farewell  to  all 
my  greatness !  I  intend  forgetting  the  world  and  every- 
body it  contains  but  you,  Charlie,  and  we'll  try  and  be  like 
the  prince  and  princess  in  the  fairy-tales, — *  as  happy  as 
the  days  are  long.'  " 


CHAPTER   III 

AT    KING'S-HEART 

In  quiet  lives  simple  occurrences  become  great  events  ; 
and  so  it  was  that  Dorothy  Fox  dwelt  more  than  most 
girls  might  have  done  on  the  adventure  of  the  day  before. 
Naturally  she  desired  to  know  if  the  handsome  young 
soldier  had  quite  recovered;  and  this  led  to  wondering 
where  he  lived,  and  whether  she  should  ever  see  him 
again.  Then  the  wounded  arm  spun  a  web  entirely  on  its 
own  account,  telling  its  tale  of  Russians  and  Zouaves; 
echoing  the  names  Alma,  Inkerman,  Sebastopol ;  names 
that  recalled  deeds,  the  fame  of  which  could  not  be  shut 
out  even  from  the  ears  of  the  peace-loving  Quaker.  Not- 
withstanding all  she  had  heard  against  fighting,  a  halo 
would  throw  itself  over  a  wounded  hero,  and  when  she 
sat  down  to  write  her  diurnal  letter  to  her  mother,  it 
seemed  a  task  to  give  a  plain  unvarnished  statement  of 
such  an  interesting  circumstance.  She  determined,  there- 
fore, to  tell  her  only  the  facts  that  a  young  man  had  come 
into  the  shop,  and  had  fainted,  but  that  by  Judith's  care 
he  recovered,  and,  after  resting,  was  able  to  walk  home. 
The  details  she  would  give  to  her  mother  when  she  re- 
turned. And  as  the  return  was  to  be  on  the  following 
day,  Dorothy  employed  herself  in  scanning  the  flower- 
beds, rearranging  the  pots  in  the  various  stands,  and 
redusting  the  already  speckless  furniture. 

All  was  ready  by  the  next  evening,  and  six  o'clock  saw 
Dorothy  standing  in  the  garden,  waiting  to  catch  sound 
of  the  wheels  which  would  tell  her  that  old  Rowe,  with 
32 


DOROTHY   FOX  33 

his  white  horse  fly,  was  bringing  the  expected  travellers 
slowly  home.  The  sun  had  nearly  lost  its  power,  and 
twilight  would  soon  gather  slowly  over  the  fair  prospect. 
Already  the  distant  hills  were  preparing  to  enshroud 
themselves  in  their  blue  misty  coverings.  Everything 
seemed  hushed  and  peaceful,  and  the  harmony  between 
the  low,  ivy-covered  house,  the  trim  garden  with  its  yew 
hedge  screening  the  view  of  the  high  road,  and  the  young 
girl  in  her  grey,  old-world  dress,  was  complete.  You 
might  have  fancied  you  had  gone  back  to  the  days  suc- 
ceeding those  when  the  first  Charles  held  his  court  at  a 
house  close  by,  and  had  come  to  this  very  place  to  visit 
its  loyal  owner,  "  who,  in  memory  of  the  spot  on  which 
the  king  had  stood,  planted  a  yew-tree,  which  he  cut  in 
fashion  of  a  heart,  and  to  this  day  King's-heart  is  the 
jiame  the  house  goes  by." 

Wheels ! ,  And  this  time,  instead  of  going  on,  they  come 
nearer  and  nearer,  only  stopping  in  front  of  the  gate, 
which  Dorothy  quickly  opens,  feeling  a  desire  to  throw 
her  arms  round  her  mother's  neck  and  kiss  her  twenty 
times.  But  her  father,  she  knows,  would  not  approve  of 
any  such  display  of  affection,  so  she  stands  quietly,  with 
beaming  eyes  of  love,  waiting  for  them  to  descend.  Then 
they  exchange  a  quiet,  sober,  but  warm  greeting,  and  go 
into  the  house,  quite  ready  to  enjoy  the  substantial  supper 
which  Dorothy  has  provided  for  them. 

When  supper  is  over,  the  conversation  flows  more 
readily,  although  the  two  great  points  of  interest — Eliza- 
beth Sparks's  wedding  and  Josiah  Crewdson's  visit — have 
to  be  deferred  until  Dorothy  is  alone  with  her  mother. 
In  the  mean  time  she  answers  the  questions  relating  to  the 
household  and  the  garden,  tells  them  who  she  saw  at  meet- 
ing on  First-day,  and  who  gave  the  discourse ;  and  is 
in  her  turn  informed  of  all  that  happened  at  Exeter 

3 


34  DOROTHY   FOX 

during  the  stay  her  father  and  mother  made  there.  Then 
they  show  her  the  presents  they  have  brought  home,  and 
finding  among  them  one  for  Judith,  Dorothy  runs  off  to 
look  for  her  old  nurse,  who  is  waiting  to  see  master  and 
mistress,  to  give  an  account  of  all  the  proceedings  of  the 
Plymouth  establishment  during  their  absence. 

Patience's  eyes  followed  her  daughter's  retreating  fig- 
ure, and  turning  to  her  husband,  she  said, — 

"  I  have  seen  no  one  to  compare  with  our  child  in  sweet- 
ness since  we  have  been  away.  I  hope  I  am  not  too 
greatly  set  upon  her,  Nathaniel." 

"  No,  Patience,  no,"  replied  her  husband,  whose  voice 
seemed  always  softer  when  he  addressed  his  wife ;  "  I 
believe  thou  hast  towards  her  only  the  love  of  a  fond 
mother — though,"  he  added,  smiling,  "  certainly  one  of 
thy  greatest  failings  is  letting  thy  love  make  thee  some- 
what blind  to  people's  shortcomings." 

Patience  gave  an  involuntary  sigh,  which,  seeing  her 
husband  had  noticed,  she  explained  by  saying,  "  I  feel 
such  a  shrinking  when  the  thought  that  I  may  perhaps 
soon  lose  her  comes  across  me." 

"  Thou  must  not  call  giving  her  to  Josiah  Crewdson 
losing  her.  Patience,"  replied  Nathaniel,  with  a  tinge  of 
reproach  in  his  look  as  well  as  in  his  voice.  "  I  only 
earnestly  trust  I  may  live  to  see  her  united  to  a  man 
who,  I  believe,  is  worthy  of  her,  and  of  being  a  cham- 
pion in  this  cause  of  upholding  our  principles  against 
those  who,  while  they  are  Friends  in  name,  are  foes 
to  the  society  they  should  defend  and  honour.  I  have 
more  pleasure  in  looking  forward  to  giving  Dorothy 
to  Josiah  Crewdson  than  I  had  to  giving  Grace  to  John 
Hanbury." 

"  Dear  Grace !"  said  Patience ;  "  I  wish  that  she  and 
John  saw  things  more  as  thou  would  have  them  do ;  but 


DOROTHY   FOX  35 

I  feel  sure  Grace  never  allows  that  in  which  her  con- 
science condemns  her." 

"Ah!  the  devil  can  make  a  conscience  very  elastic, 
Patience.  Once  let  him  get  the  smallest  entrance  into  the 
heart,  and  he  will  soon  fill  it  and  the  mind  with  a  love  of 
his  snares  and  besetments." 

"  I  hope  Dorothy  may  like  Josiah,"  said  Patience,  pur- 
suing the  subject  which  was  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"  Of  course,  she  will  like  him,"  returned  Nathaniel, 
growing  impatient.  "  Why  should  she  not  ?  An  excel- 
lent young  man,  whom  we  have  all  known  from  his  child- 
hood. I  trust  that  my  daughter  has  been  too  well  brought 
up  not  to  be  greatly  guided  in  her  choice  of  a  husband  by 
the  knowledge  that  he  has  the  approbation  of  her  father." 
Then  seeing  a  troubled  expression  on  Patience's  face,  he 
patted  her  hand,  saying,  "  Be  very  sure,  love  will  come, 
wife,  love  will  come." 

"  I  trust  so,  for  without  it  marriage  must  be  a  dreary 
bondage  of  mind  and  body.  Two  people  may  honour, 
obey,  and  respect  each  other,  but  if  love  is  not  present  to 
make  them  one — oh !  husband,  can  you  not  say,  *  I  pity 
them.' " 

Before  Nathaniel  could  reply,  Dorothy  returned,  asking 
if  Judith  might  come  in  and  see  them.  Permission  being 
given,  the  old  servant  was  soon  interesting  them  in  ac- 
counts of  the  orders  Mark  had  taken,  and  how  many 
times  he  had  been  away  to  Tavistock,  Totnes,  and  other 
places. 

After  this  Nathaniel  went  out  to  speak  to  the  gardener, 
and  then  Judith  entered  upon  gossip  of  a  more  domestic 
character,  until,  having  exhausted  her  stock,  she  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Did  ye  tell  the  mistress  about  the  young 
soldier,  dear,  and  his  fainting  off  dead  in  the  shop,  just 
as  luck  would  have  it,  when  I'd  run  out  to  tell  Mary 


36  DOROTHY   FOX 

Dawe  about  Friday's  cleaning;  such  a  woman  as  she  is 
with  her  tongue,  which  once  set  clacking,  and  I'd  like  to 
see  the  one  who'd  get  in  a  word  on  the  blade  of  a  knife. 
However,  I  was  soon  back,  or  I  don't  know  what  the  poor 
child  would  have  done," 

"  Ah !  thou  did  mention  something  of  the  sort,  Dorothy, 
but  how  did  it  happen,  and  what  brought  him  to  the 
shop?" 

Hereupon  Judith  and  Dorothy  related  the  whole  cir- 
cumstance. "  And,  mother,"  said  Dorothy,  "  Judith  is 
quite  offended  with  him  because  he  took  her  for  thee,  and 
when  he  left  desired  his  thanks  and  his  card  to  be  given 
to  her." 

"  Hush,  now !"  exclaimed  Judith ;  "  it  is  too  bad  to 
bring  that  up  against  him.  The  truth  is,  his  poor  head 
was  so  dazed  he  couldn't  tell  cockles  from  corn." 

"  I  almost  wish  thou  hadst  heard  where  he  lived,"  re- 
marked Patience,  "  that  Mark  might  have  inquired 
whether  he  reached  home  in  safety.  These  sudden  at- 
tacks of  faintness  are  very  alarming.  What  was  his 
name  ?" 

"  Captain  Charles  Egerton  Verschoyle  was  on  the 
card,"  answered  Dorothy. 

"  Oh !  then  he  was  not  a  working  man,"  replied  her 
mother. 

"  Working  man !"  echoed  Judith ;  "  indeed,  he  had  the 
bearing  of  a  lord,  and  the  step  of  a  drum-major  as  he 
walked  down  the  street.  'Twas  his  looks  made  me  won- 
der what  I'd  best  do  with  him." 

"  I  am  glad  thou  let  thy  kind  heart  decide  for  thee, 
Judith,"  said  her  mistress ;  "  the  day  must  never  come 
when  any  one,  gentle  or  simple,  in  want  or  need,  turns 
from  Nathaniel  Fox's  door.  Remember  the  spirit  of 
true  charity  has  dwelt  in  that  house  for  many  genera- 


DOROTHY   FOX  37 

tions.  But  here  comes  thy  father.  It  is  time  for  reading, 
so  call  Lydia  and  Anne,  and  get  the  books,  Dorothy." 

The  maids  came  in,  and  the  family,  after  sitting  silent 
for  a  short  time,  listened  attentively  while  Nathaniel  Fox 
read  the  evening  portion  to  them.  To  have  merely  looked 
in  upon  such  a  scene  would  have  sent  a  peaceful  feeling 
over  a  troubled,  world-weary  life. 

Although  it  was  not  quite  dark,  the  lamp  was  lighted 
and  placed  before  the  reader,  thus  making  him  the  most 
striking  object,  and  throwing  out  his  face  and  figure. 
Nathaniel  Fox  was  a  tall,  well-made  man  of  nearly  sixty 
years.  His  face  was  grave  and  almost  stern  in  its  expres- 
sion. His  disposition  was  naturally  genial  and  cheerful, 
and  he  enjoyed  a  joke,  or  quick  repartee,  more  than  he 
would  have  cared  to  own.  His  family  had  belonged  to 
the  Society  of  Friends  for  many  generations.  His  father 
had  commenced  life  as  a  woollen-draper,  and  by  his 
frugal  habits  and  patient  industry  had  so  increased  his 
business  that  he  amassed  a  considerable  fortune,  which 
was  inherited  by  his  only  son.  Nathaniel  had  been  sent 
to  York  school  and  kept  there  until  he  was  fifteen,  at 
which  age  he  was  considered  to  be  duly  educated  and 
ready  to  learn  the  business.  He  never  left  home,  settled 
early  in  life,  and  succeeded  to  a  larger  income  than,  with 
his  quiet  habits,  he  had  any  means  or  desire  of  spending., 
As  time  rolled  on,  his  little  peculiarities  naturally  became 
enlarged,  his  opinion  that  his  own  views  were  right  be- 
came confirmed,  and  his  toleration  to  those  who  differed 
from  him  got  narrowed.  Of  the  world  he  was  literally 
ignorant,  although  by  his  warnings  and  exhortations 
against  its  snares  and  follies  one  might  have  fancied  he 
had  run  the  gauntlet  of  every  temptation.  So  it  was  that 
this  simple,  pure-minded  man,  to  whom  the  truth  was  a 
law  he  never  knowingly  broke,  took  the  most  one-sided 


38  DOROTHY   FOX 

view  of  things  which,  if  he  could  have  seen  them  in  their 
true  Hght,  he  would  have  upheld  and  enjoyed.  No  rigid 
fanatic  ever  stood  by  a  dictum  more  staunchly  than  did 
Nathaniel  Fox  advocate  every  principle  enjoined  by  the 
Society  of  Friends.  The  diminishing  of  the  height  of  his 
collar,  or  the  narrowing  of  the  brim  of  his  hat  by  one 
fraction  of  an  inch,  would  have  been  considered,  by  this 
worthy  man,  a  grave  offence.  He  never  seemed  to  con- 
sider that  though  people  might  in  most  cases  indulge  in 
"  plainness  of  speech  and  behaviour,"  without  much  per- 
sonal inconvenience,  plainness  of  dress  entailed  great 
trouble  and  expense.  H  Nathaniel  wanted  a  hat  or  coat, 
he  could  not  obtain  such  articles  to  his  satisfaction  in 
Plymouth;  he  had  to  apply  to  some  maker  for  the 
brotherhood  residing  in  Exeter  or  London.  A  new  bon- 
net for  Patience  cost  more  trouble  to  obtain  than  any  lady 
of  fashion  went  through  to  secure  the  newest  style  from 
Paris.  Still  nothing  would  have  induced  Nathaniel  to 
adopt  any  other  dress  than  that  which  he  had  been 
brought  up  to  consider  as  the  only  proper  one  for  a  con- 
sistent Friend.  Certainly  he  had  so  far  departed  from  the 
practice  of  his  forefathers  as  not  to  insist  upon  mounting 
a  cocked  hat  with  the  brim  fastened  up  to  the  crown  with 
cord;  neither  did  he  consider  it  incumbent  upon  him  to 
confine  himself  entirely  to  drab.  But  his  neck  was  ever 
enveloped  in  the  whitest  of  cravats,  tied  with  exquisite 
neatness,  and  his  drab  breeches  and  gaiters  as  well  as  his 
black  swallow-tailed,  straight-collared  coat  were  made  of 
the  finest  West  of  England  cloth. 

Nathaniel  had  been  married  twice,  his  first  wife  having 
died  soon  after  the  birth  of  their  daughter  Grace,  who, 
having  mixed  greatly  with  her  mother's  family,  had 
formed  opinions  and  ideas  which  differed  considerably 
from  those  held  by  her  father. 


DOROTHY   FOX  39 

Patience,  his  second  wife,  was  the  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  tea-merchant  of  York.  Her  opinions  and  educa- 
tion had  been  more  hberal  than  those  of  her  husband,  over 
whom  she  influenced  a  more  decided  sway  than  she  ever 
named  or  he  ever  knew.  They  were  very  opposite  in 
character  and  disposition,  but  their  love  to  each  other  was 
devoted  and  unmistakable.  From  her  mother,  Dorothy 
inherited  her  fair  face  and  delicate  features.  Patience 
had  been  a  beauty,  and  those  who  knew  her  thought  she 
had  lost  but  little  of  its  charm.  She  was  the  friend  of  all 
around  her,  rejoicing  in  their  happiness  and  prosperity, 
comforting  them  in  sorrow  and  adversity,  and  giving  to 
them  in  her  own  life  a  perfect  example  of  each  womanly 
grace  and  virtue. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A   REUNION 

The  four  days  in  Plymouth  had  slipped  quickly  away. 
To-morrow  the  brother  and  sister  were  to  return  to  Shil- 
ston  Hall  and  join  Lady  Laura,  who  was  anxiously  ex- 
pecting her  son.  This  was  therefore  Audrey's  last  day  of 
freedom.  They  had  made  the  most  of  the  time,  and  it  had 
passed  away  so  speedily  and  happily,  and  left  so  many 
pleasant  memories,  that  Audrey  declared  that  if  she  could 
marry  for  love  she  would  spend  her  honeymoon  in 
Plymouth.  Not  that  they  had  done  much  sight-seeing  in 
a  place  where  the  lover  of  fair  nature  has  but  one  com- 
plaint, an  embarras  de  richesses.  Captain  Verschoyle, 
in  after  days,  often  spoke  to  her  of  that  week  in  Ply- 
mouth, where  she  was  as  gay  as  a  happy  girl,  and  as  art- 
less and  naive  as  a  thoughtless  child.  She  would  talk  to 
the  old  boatmen,  and  listen  with  delight  to  their  yarns, 
and  would  enter  into  conversation  with  any  man,  woman, 
or  child  who  chanced  to  come  in  her  way,  and  be  as 
triumphantly  pleased  with  the  evident  admiration  she 
excited  in  some  rough  old  salt  or  military  pensioner  as 
if  they  had  been  eligible  partis,  with  rank  and  wealth 
to  lay  at  the  feet  of  their  charmer. 

"  Audrey,"  said  Charles  to  her  after  one  of  these  happy 
excursions,  "  I  have  often  heard  that  you  were  charming, 
but  if  people  only  saw  you  just  now,  they  would  say  you 
were  irresistible." 

Whereupon  she  made  him  a  sweeping  courtesy,  declaring 
that  she  believed  it,  for  it  was  the  first  compliment  he  had 
40 


DOROTHY   FOX  41 

ever  paid  her  in  his  life.  "  But,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have 
often  thought  that  I  might  have  been  really  nice,  if  I  had 
not  been  brought  up  to  show  the  right  side,  and  feel  the 
wrong  side,  of  everything.  The  last  few  days  have  made 
me  rather  inclined  to  envy  those  whom  ambition  does  not 
tempt  to  any  other  than  a  simple  life  of  domestic  con- 
tentment. It  must  be  very  pleasant  to  feel  you  have  a 
companion  for  your  whole  life,  one  whom  you  love  so  well 
that  you  are  truly  content  to  take  and  be  taken  *  for 
better  and  for  worse.'  Ah,  I  see  you  are  elevating  your 
eyebrows,  sir,  and  no  wonder,  when  you  are  listening 
to  such  treason  from  the  lips  of  your  mentor.  But 
pray  don't  inform  against  me.  I  promise  to  leave  all  my 
romance  behind  me  here.  And  now,  how  shall  we  em- 
ploy this  last  day  ?" 

"  I  thought  we  should  drive  round  Plymouth,  and  then 
I  could  make  the  inquiries  I  want  to  make  at  the  Custom- 
house. I  am  rather  anxious  about  those  boxes ;  they  are 
filled  with  curiosities  and  relics  that  I  set  much  value 
upon." 

Accordingly  they  set  off,  and  soon  found  themselves 
going  over  the  bridge  and  through  the  toll-gate,  whose 
keeper  had  given  Captain  Verschoyle  his  round-about 
direction.  The  sight  of  the  man  reminded  him  of  that 
evening's  adventure,  and  he  began  to  relate  the  circum- 
stances to  his  sister.  Audrey  was  quite  interested  in  his 
description  of  the  bright-looking,  motherly  shopkeeper, 
and  her  daughter,  and  asked  him  to  give  her  a  minute 
detail  of  all  that  had  happened. 

"  And  the  girl  was  very  pretty  ?"  said  she,  answering 
her  brother  with  a  question. 

"  Well,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  I  hardly  know ; 
her  prim  quaintness  struck  me  so  much  more  than  any- 
thing else.     Her  tout  ensemble  certainly  made  a  charm- 


42  DOROTHY    FOX 

ing  picture,  but  how  much  was  due  to  her  good  looks  I 
really  cannot  say.  You  know  she  was  totally  unlike 
anything  I  ever  saw  before." 

"  How  I  should  like  to  see  her !"  exclamed  Audrey. 
"  Could  you  not  call,  and  say  you  were  much  better,  and 
felt  you  could  not  leave  Plymouth  without  again  thanking 
them  for  their  kindness?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  her  brother ;  "  it's  hardly 
worth  while,  and  she  might  not  strike  you  at  all  in  the 
same  way ;  minus  crinoline  and  colours,  you  might  think 
her  dowdy  and  old-fashioned." 

"  No,  I  should  not,"  answered  Audrey ;  "  and  if  I  did 
it  would  make  no  difference.  My  curiosity  would  be 
satisfied,  so  do  go,  Charlie.  I  really  think  you  should, 
for  they  were  very  good  to  you." 

"  Yes,  they  were,  indeed,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle. 
"  Suppose  I  were  to  take  a  bunch  of  flowers  to  the  girl. 
I  saw  some  on  the  table,  I  remember;  and  you  being 
with  me,  it  would  seem  all  right.  I  want  them  to  think 
that  I  have  come  to  thank  them,  not  from  any  other  mo- 
tive." 

Upon  this  the  coachman  was  told  to  stop  at  any  shop 
where  he  saw  flowers  for  sale.  They  had  not  left  the 
Union  Road  before  Audrey  had  selected  a  rather  large 
bouquet  formed  of  roses  and  lilies. 

"  I  wish  we  could  have  got  something  better,"  said  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  so  too ;  but  it  will  please  them.  Marshall 
would  call  it  lovely — those  sort  of  people  always  favour 
quantity  rather  than  quality." 

They  had  soon  passed  St.  Andrew's  Church  and  the 
Post-office,  Audrey  commenting  on  the  smart  shops  and 
the  gaily  dressed  pedestrians,  and  admiring  the  pretty 
smiling  girls,  with  their  dark  eyes  and  bright  fresh  com- 


DOROTHY   FOX  '43 

plexions.  The  old  Guildhall  came  in  sight,  and  opposite 
it  the  fat  gilt  lamb  dangling  over  the  name  of  Nathaniel 
Fox,  "  woollen-draper  and  manufacturer."  Here  they 
drew  up  and  descended,  and  entering  the  shop,  inquired 
if  Mrs.  Fox  were  at  home. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mark,  thinking  the  question  applied  to 
her  return  from  Exeter. 

"  Could  I  see  her  ?"  said  Captain  Verschoyle. 

"  And  Miss  Fox  ?"  put  in  Audrey. 

"  They're  not  here,"  answered  Mark ;  "  they're  at 
King's-heart,  where  they  keep  house;"  then  seeing  that 
Miss  Verschoyle  looked  rather  disappointed,  he  con- 
tinued, "  But  if  thou  came  to  see  them  thou  wilt  go  on 
there  surely,  or  they'll  be  main  disappointed.  Now  thou 
art  on  the  road,  'tis  but  a  step." 

"  Yes ;  let  us  go,  Charles,"  said  Audrey ;  and  then 
seeing  her  brother  hesitate,  she  addressed  Mark,  asking 
him  if  it  was  far,  and  begging  him  to  repeat  the  name  of 
the  place. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  explain  it  to  the  coachman,"  she 
continued,  "  for  we  are  strangers  here,  and  know  noth-i 
ing  of  the  roads." 

Mark's  explanation  was  very  brief,  for  the  man  knew 
the  house,  and  was  soon  driving  up  to  it.  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle feeling  very  much  inclined  to  turn  back.  But 
he  was  overruled  by  Audrey's  curiosity;  and  as  they 
had  nothing  else  to  do,  and  the  country  began  to  look 
very  pretty,  he  soon  felt  more  at  ease. 

At  the  top  of  the  lane  they  got  out  of  the  fly,  the  man 
telling  them  to  walk  on  until  they  came  to  a  white  gate, 
where  they  could  either  ring  or  walk  in.  The  high 
hedge  and  the  trees  formed  such  a  complete  screen  from 
the  road  that  it  was  impossible  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
house;   and  as  they  stood  admiring  the  prospect  Lydia 


44  DOROTHY   FOX 

answered  their  summons.  She  said  Mrs.  Fox  was  at 
home,  and  bade  them  follow  her.  Somehow,  before  they 
had  gone  half-way  up  the  path.  Captain  Verschoyle 
heartily  wished  himself  anywhere  else.  Audrey  tried 
to  whisper  that  they  had  certainly  made  a  mistake,  and 
they  were  both  reflecting  what  they  had  better  do,  when 
Lydia  opened  a  door,  and  announced  Captain  and  Miss 
Verschoyle. 

The  room  into  which  they  were  shown  was  always 
called  the  sitting-room,  though  it  answered  to  the  draw- 
ing-room of  upper  middle-class  families.  It  was  prettily 
and  lightly  furnished,  and  bore  about  it  evidence  of 
being  intended  for  home  use,  while  the  flowers  arranged 
in  diflferent  stands  and  vases  spoke  of  refined  taste  and 
feminine  influence.  Patience  was  seated  before  a  half- 
finished  painting  of  a  group  of  tall  white  lilies,  giving 
Dorothy  the  benefit  of  her  criticism,  as  the  girl  knelt 
at  her  side  listening  with  delighted  face  to  the  praise  her 
mother  had  to  bestow. 

When  the  door  opened  there  was  a  momentary  look 
of  surprise  on  both  their  faces,  and  then  Dorothy,  coming 
forward  with  a  perfectly  natural  but  pretty,  shy  manner, 
held  out  her  hand  to  Captain  Verschoyle,  saying,  "  I  am 
so  glad  to  see  thee  looking  so  well  again." 

Poor  Charles!  I  fear  his  first  impulse  was  to  turn 
round  and  soundly  rate  Audrey  for  allowing  her  curi- 
osity to  bring  him  into  this  dilemma.  One  glance  at  the 
occupants  of  the  room  told  him  the  relationship  in  which 
they  stood  towards  each  other  and  revealed  the  evident 
mistake  he  had  made.  He  could  not  explain  it  now, 
and  say  that  he  had  considered  that  homely  looking  per- 
son the  mother  of  this  girl,  who,  among  these  surround- 
ings, looked  much  more  refined  than  he  had  in  their  first 
interview  thought  her. 


DOROTHY   FOX  45 

"  This  is  my  mother,"  continued  Dorothy,  as  Patience 
advanced  towards  them. 

Captain  Verschoyle  was  not  naturally  oppressed  with 
bashfulness  or  awkwardness,  but  on  this  occasion  no 
youth  raw  from  a  remote  country  district  could  have  felt 
more  confused.  Audrey  was  so  much  amused  at  the 
appearance  he  presented,  as  he  stood  there  tr}'ing  to 
stammer  out  something,  the  enormous  nosegay  all  the 
while  in  his  hand,  that  it  required  a  violent  effort  on  her 
part  to  keep  from  bursting  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  But 
she  restrained  herself,  and  came  to  the  rescue  by  say- 
ing,— 

"  Mrs.  Fox,  you  will  pardon  this  intrusion,  I  am  sure. 
My  brother  and  I  felt  your  kindness  to  him  was  so 
great,  that  our  gratitude  would  not  permit  us  to  leave 
Plymouth  without  thanking  you  for  it." 

"  I  am  very  pleased  to  see  thee,"  said  Patience ;  then, 
turning  to  Captain  Verschoyle,  she  continued,  "  The 
mistake  thou  made  in  taking  Judith  for  Dorothy's  mother 
was  a  natural  one,  and  Judith  is  so  valued  by  us  all,  that 
I  appreciate  the  intention  which  made  thee  come  so  far 
to  thank  her,  quite  as  much  as  if  thy  visit  had  been  meant 
for  myself." 

Patience  little  knew  how  her  unstudied  speech, 
prompted  entirely  by  the  wish  to  set  the  young  man  at 
ease,  raised  her  at  once  in  Miss  Verschoyle's  opinion. 

"  How  well  done !"  she  thought ;  "  that  woman  has 
breeding  in  her,  though  she  may  be  the  daughter  of  a 
thousand  shopkeepers." 

Captain  Verschoyle  began  to  recover  himself,  and  by 
the  time  Dorothy  had  relieved  him  of  his  floral  burden, 
saying,  "  What  beautiful  lilies !  I  was  wishing  I  had 
some  more  this  morning,"  he  had  found  his  courage 
again;   and  feeling  the  truth  had  best  be  told,  he  said 


46  DOROTHY   FOX 

that  he  had  got  them  for  her,  thinking  that  she  lived  in 
the  town,  and  would  perhaps  accept  them,  and  excuse 
the  poorness  of  his  offering.  They  were  soon  perfectly 
at  home.  Patience  listening  to  an  account  of  Captain 
Verschoyle's  subsequent  illness,  and  Dorothy  showing 
Audrey  the  flower  painting  she  was  engaged  upon.  Au- 
drey thought  she  had  never  before  seen  anything  so 
pretty  as  the  child's  artless  manner,  so  self-possessed 
and  yet  so  simple.  She  readily  assented  to  Dorothy's 
proposal  that  they  should  go  over  the  garden,  and  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  and  Patience  got  up  to  follow  them. 

"  But,"  said  Audrey,  "  you  will  get  a  hat  or  bonnet 
first." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  never  do." 

"  Why,  you  will  spoil  your  complexion ;  which  would 
be  a  pity,  for  it  is  beautiful." 

"  Is  it  ?"  answered  Dorothy. 

Audrey  laughed;  here  certainly  was  a  rara  avis — a 
girl  who  was  unconscious  of  the  charms  she  possessed. 
Audrey  wondered  whether  she  was  the  happier  for  it, 
and  if  her  whole  demeanour  could  be  relied  upon.  She 
was  the  embodiment  of  happiness,  and  yet  what  capa- 
bilities of  improvement  she  possessed !  If  her  hair  were 
simply  but  fashionably  arranged,  and  if  she  had  an  ele- 
gant white  toilette,  she  would  be  the  perfection  of  her 
style.  And  then  Audrey  mentally  conjured  up  a  reflec- 
tion of  her  own  figure  clothed  in  grey,  with  the  white 
net  kerchief  crossed  over  her  bosom,  and  all  her  hair 
taken  back  from  her  face  and  fastened  into  a  knot  at  the 
back  of  her  head. 

"  I  should  look  simply  hideous,"  she  thought.  "  What 
a  providence  I  am  not  condemned  to  belong  to  the  Qua- 
ker persuasion !" 

."  What  art  thou  showing  Audrey  Verschoyle,  dear- 


DOROTHY   FOX  4;? 

est?"  said  Patience;  then  seeing  the  surprised  look  on 
Audrey's  face,  she  added,  "  Thou  must  not  think  me 
famihar  in  thus  naming  thee,  but  it  is  against  our  prin- 
ciples to  give  persons  the  title  of  Miss  or  Mr." 

"  Familiar?  indeed,  no,  Mrs.  Fox;  I  was  just  looking 
at  this  yew-tree  so  curiously  cut." 

"  Yes,  they  call  it  '  Charles's  heart,*  and  say  the  poor 
man  once  stood  by  it  in  much  sorrow.  Dorothy  will  tell 
thee  long  histories  of  all  he  did  during  his  stay  at  Widey, 
for  he  is  her  favourite  hero  of  romance." 

"  Hardly  that,  mother ;  but  I  feel  so  sorry  for  him ; 
and  so  dost  thou,  too." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Patience ;  "  still  I  always  blame  him 
for  want  of  truthfulness.  He  relied,  I  fear,  on  one  of 
the  world's  supports — cunning,  a  very  broken  reed  to 
all  who  try  its  strength." 

"  Ah,  but,  Mrs.  Fox,"  said  Audrey,  "  remember  he 
lived  in  an  atmosphere  where,  as  in  the  world  of  the 
present  day,  a  little  deceit  is  pardonable,  and  strict  truth 
would  be  not  only  unpalatable,  but  unwholesome,  in- 
asmuch as  it  would  cause  you  to  disagree  with  every 
one. 

"  Thou  dost  not  quite  mean  that,"  replied  Patience, 
"  or  I  should  form  a  bad  opinion  of  the  world." 

"  And  do  you  not  think  badly  of  us  ?"  questioned  Au- 
drey, laughing. 

"  I  hope  not,"  returned  Patience.  "  Of  course,  thou 
must  know  that  in  the  quiet  life  I  lead,  many  of  the 
things  I  hear  I  must  condemn;  but  then  it  is  the  folly 
I  censure,  not  individually  those  who  enter  into  it.  How 
could  I  presume  to  do  that,  when,  were  it  not  for  a  good- 
ness that  has  placed  me  beyond  those  particular  tempta- 
tions, my  weak  human  nature  might  be  as  powerless  to 
resist  as  theirs  whom  I  should  be  censuring?" 


48  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Mrs.  Fox,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  you  put  a 
quiet  life  very  pleasantly  before  us." 

"  Do  I  ?"  she  answered ;  "  and  yet  I  sometimes  hope 
that  Dorothy  may  see  more  of  the  world  than  I  have  had 
an  opportunity  of  seeing.  I  do  not  hold  a  choice  made 
through  ignorance  so  highly  as  I  should  hold  one  made 
after  the  person  had  in  a  measure  tested  the  value  of 
what  was  given  up;  and  just  now  a  great  agitation  is 
working  in  the.  minds  of  Friends,  whether  it  would  not 
be  expedient  to  give  more  freedom  of  action  to  members 
of  the  society.  Many  regard  the  movement  with  favour, 
while  others  cling  to  the  customs  of  their  fathers.  My 
husband  is  one  of  those  who  deplore  any  innovation,  so, 
of  course,  we  carry  out  his  views;  though  I  cannot  say 
it  would  be  against  my  conscience  to  do  many  things 
which  I  refrain  from  doing  just  because  I  know  his  con- 
science would  condemn  them.  And  now  thou  wilt  come 
into  the  house  and  partake  of  some  refreshment  before 
starting?" 

Audrey  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  thou  must  come,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  do  so,"  answered  Audrey, 
"  did  I  not  fear  we  were  almost  trespassing  on  your  hos- 
pitality." 

"  Do  not  fear  that,"  said  Patience,  smiling.  "  Thou 
knows  it  is  our  custom  only  to  say  what  we  mean; 
therefore  thy  staying  will  give  us  pleasure." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  we  will  not  deny  ourselves  such  a 
pleasure,"  added  Captain  Verschoyle. 

And  on  this  they  all  went  back  to  the  house  to  par- 
take of  tea  and  fruit  and  cake.  They  sat  some  time 
longer  talking  of  paintings  and  flowers,  and  of  many 
subjects  on  which  Charles  and  Audrey  seldom  spoke. 
Captain  Verschoyle  gave  them  some  descriptions  of  the 


DOROTHY   FOX  49 

Crimea — of  the  sufferings  and  bravery  of  the  men,  and 
of  the  fortitude  with  which  some  had  heard  their  death- 
warrant,  when  hfe  would  have  given  them  the  fame 
to  gain  which  they  had  risked  all  they  held  dear.  He 
spoke  more  particularly  of  one  of  his  own  especial 
friends,  and  of  the  influence  his  life  and  death  had  had 
upon  his  men.  Patience  at  length  confessed  to  herself 
that  she  felt  greatly  drawn  towards  him,  and  thought 
how  proud  his  mother  must  be  of  such  a  son;  for 
Charles  Verschoyle  had  that  gentle  suavity  of  manner 
which,  while  it  attracts  all,  particularly  appeals  to  women 
who  feel  that  their  youth  no  longer  claims  the  attention 
and  thoughtfulness  due  to  their  sex. 

They  were  all  reluctant  to  say  good-bye;  and,  stand- 
ing together  at  the  white  gate,  any  one  would  have  been 
surprised  to  hear  that  they  were  friends  of  only  a  few 
hours'  standing. 

"  Farewell,"  said  Patience  to  Audrey.  "  I  shall  often 
think  of  thee." 

"  And  I  of  you,"  she  answered.  "  The  thought  will 
do  me  good — as  you  yourself  would  do  could  I  see  more 
of  you."  Then  turning  to  Dorothy,  and  meeting  her 
loving,  earnest  eyes,  Audrey,  giving  way  to  a  most  un- 
usual impulse,  took  the  sweet  face  in  both  her  hands,  and 
kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  Captain  Verschoyle,  mean- 
while, bade  a  lingering  adieu  to  Patience. 

"  Farewell,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  glad  we  have  met, 
should  it  never  be  our  lot  to  meet  again.  In  all  thy 
warfare,  may  thou  be  protected." 

"  Thank  you  heartily ;  but  I  will  not  think  this  is  to 
be  our  only  meeting.  Should  I  ever  come  to  Plymouth 
again,  you  will,  I  know,  give  me  permission  to  call  and 
see  you.  Good-bye,  Miss  Fox;  I  have  not  expressed 
half  my  gratitude  to  you  for  your  charitable  kindness." 

'  4 


50  DOROTHY   FOX 

One  more  look  round  to  see  the  mother  and  daughter 
as  they  stood  together,  the  declining  rays  of  the  sun  lin- 
gering about  the  pathway  where  they  stood,  and  lovingly 
resting  on  them,  and  Audrey  and  Charles  Verschoyle 
turned  their  faces  towards  Plymouth.  The  driver  (who 
had  been  well  cared  for)  touched  up  his  horse,  and  they 
were  soon  well  on  the  road  again. 

"  Charles,"  said  Audrey,  breaking  the  silence,  "  I  never 
in  my  lifetime  felt  so  old  and  world-worn  nor  felt  such 
a  desire  to  be  different  from  what  I  am.  Now  I  know 
what  happiness  means!  Something  bom  of  a  great 
heart — too  pure,  too  truthful,  too  charitable  to  see  aught 
but  the  best  of  people,  and  which,  as  it  daily  grows  and 
strengthens,  fills  its  owner  with  inward  peace  and  per- 
fect content!  Oh,  I  have  so  enjoyed  this  afternoon!  I 
feel,  if  I  were  a  man,  I  should  like  to  marry  that  girl." 

"  And  I,"  answered  her  brother,  "  should  like  to  marry 
the  mother.  For  such  a  wife  I  could  give  up  everything, 
and  feel  perfectly  contented." 

"Yes,  she  is  certainly  charming;  but  so  they  both" 
are,  and  their  manners  are  perfect.  While  I  was  watch- 
ing them,  I  could  but  make  some  rather  humiliating  com- 
parisons. Here  was  I  pluming  myself  on  my  wonderful 
good  breeding,  the  result  of  birth  and  society,  and  I 
come  suddenly  upon  the  wife  and  daughter  of  a  country 
shopkeeper,  who  tell  you  that  they  have  hardly  ever  been 
beyond  the  town  they  live  in,  and  never  mixed  with  other 
society  than  the  members  of  their  own  community,  and 
yet  the  self-possession  and  graceful  tact  of  the  mother, 
when  she  covered  your  confusion  at  an  awkward  mis- 
take by  turning  it  at  once  into  an  attention  paid  to  her 
family,  and  the  pretty  way  in  which  the  daughter  told 
you  that  the  flowers  were  just  those  she  had  been  wish- 
ing for,  might  have  been  envied  by  a  duchess." 


DOROTHY   FOX  §1 

"  Quite  so,"  said  her  brother ;  "  the  true  thing  evi- 
dently springs  from  some  other  source  than  *  blue  blood' 
alone." 

"  I  was  very  nearly  endangering  every  claim  I  possess 
to  good  breeding,"  exclaimed  Audrey.  "  I  really  thought 
I  must  have  have  a  fit  of  laughter  at  you,  Charlie.  You 
have  no  idea  of  the  ridiculous  figure  you  presented  with 
that  enormous  nosegay;  only  the  geese  were  wanting 
to  make  the  representation  of  the  '  Bashful  Swain'  com- 
plete." 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughed.  "  Well,  certainly,"  he 
said,  "  I  never  felt  more  completely  disconcerted  in  my 
life,  and  the  worst  of  it  was,  I  could  think  of  nothing  to 
say." 

"  Fancy,  Charlie,  if  mamma  could  have  seen  her  son 
hors  de  combat  before  a  shopkeeper's  wife!" 

"Ah,  poor  mamma!"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle; 
"  she  has  a  good  many  things  to  be  shocked  at  yet." 

"  I  cannot  think,"  continued  Audrey,  "  why  you  were 
so  Httle  impressed  with  the  girl's  beauty;  to  me  she  is 
lovely.  She  made  me  feel  so  old,  and  filled  me  with  a 
desire  to  caress  her  and  pet  her  and  indulge  her." 

"  She  is  very  much  prettier  than  I  thought  her,"  an- 
swered her  brother ;  "  before,  I  principally  admired  her 
quaint  childishness." 

"  Yes,"  said  Audrey,  "  but  that  is  only  her  pretty, 
half-shy  manner  and  appearance ;  she  can  talk  extremely 
well." 

"  Can  she  ?"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  absently. 

"  Of  course  she  can,"  exclaimed  Audrey ;  "  but  you 
were  so  taken  up  with  her  mother  that  I  don't  believe 
you  spoke  ten  words  to  her.  However,  it  didn't  matter, 
for  I  saw  she  admired  me  much  more  than  she  did 
you." 


52  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Then  all  was  as  it  should  be,  and  we  got  an  equal 
division  of  pleasure.    I  wonder  what  the  father  is  like." 

"  Oh,  vulgar,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Audrey. 

"  And  I  dare  say  not,"  returned  her  brother ;  "  pecu- 
liar he  may  be,  disagreeable  perhaps,  but  the  husband  of 
that  woman  could  not  continue  vulgar." 

"  No,  you  are  right,  Charles,"  answered  Audrey ; 
"  and  I  only  wish  I  could  see  them  often.  I  know  they 
would  do  me  good,  and  keep  down  that  '  envy,  hatred, 
and  malice'  which  poisons  much  of  my  better  nature. 
This  afternoon's  visit  is  the  delightful  termination  to 
our  holiday.  Say  you  have  enjoyed  the  last  week,  Char- 
lie dear,  for  I  don't  believe  I  was  ever  so  happy  in  my 
life  before." 

Next  morning  they  took  their  departure  reluctantly. 
Marshall  quite  entered  into  their  regret,  for,  in  addition 
to  the  scenery,  she  left  behind  the  landlady's  son,  home 
from  sea,  who,  "  though  a  little  free  in  speech  and  rough 
in  voice,  was  a  tender,  kind-hearted  creature."  More- 
over, he  was  so  attentive  to  "  Miss  Marshall"  that  she 
hardly  knew  what  to  think  of  his  attentions.  At  part- 
ing he  had  given  her  a  white  satin  heart-shaped  pin- 
cushion, worked  with  beads,  and  had  told  her  to  accept 
it  as  emblematic,  though  his  own  heart  was  not  so  hard. 
So  it  had  been  a  happy  week  to  all  of  them,  and  as  the 
train  carried  them  beyond  the  possibility  of  another 
glimpse  of  the  old  town  of  Plymouth,  they  sighed  that 
it  was  over. 

Lady  Laura  was  at  St.  Thomas's  station  to  meet  them, 
and  it  rejoiced  Captain  Verschoyle's  heart  to  see  the 
tears  of  joy  in  his  mother's  eyes,  and  her  contented  look, 
as  with  her  hand  in  his  they  drove  to  Shilston  Hall. 

"  Miss  Brocklehurst  will  be  so  pleased  to  see  you 
both,"   said  Lady  Laura.     "  She  has  talked   so  much 


DOROTHY   FOX  53 

about  you,  that  some  of  those  horrid  toadies  of  cousins 
have  gone  away  in  disgust.  I  am  very  glad  now  that 
Audrey  went  to  you,  Charlie,  although  I  endured  ago- 
nies after  she  had  left,  fearing  that  she  might  catch  some 
fever  or  dreadful  complaint.  You  know,  my  dearest 
boy,  nothing  but  the  certainty  that  it  would  have  been 
death  to  me,  in  my  weak  state,  to  have  gone  to  such  a 
place  prevented  me  flying  to  you.  It  was  a  dreadful 
trial  to  remain  here.  And  it  was  so  thoughtful  of  you 
to  stay  away  these  two  days  longer,  and  have  all  your 
clothes  thoroughly  exposed  to  the  air.  My  anxiety  for 
your  return  prevented  my  suggesting  such  a  thing." 

"  Do  you  intend  staying  here  much  longer,  mamma  ?" 
interrupted  Audrey. 

"  I  think  not,"  answered  Lady  Laura.  "  We  are  due 
at  Dyne  Court  the  beginning  of  next  month,  and  I  want 
to  stay  in  town  for  a  few  days  before  we  go  there.  How- 
ever, Charles  shall  decide,  and  I  shall  be  governed  by 
him." 

"  Oh,  no,  mother,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  I  do 
not  want  any  of  the  bother  of  pre-eminence.  You  and 
Audrey  must  manage  everything  for  me,  and  I  shall  be 
content  to  follow  out  any  plans  made  for  me." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  his  mother,  delightedly.  "  If 
you  throw  the  onus  of  management  upon  me,  I  think  I 
may  answer  that  you  will  have  no  cause  for  complaint. 
I  have  several  pet  schemes  on  hand  which  I  think  you 
will  approve  of,  and  before  next  season  comes  I  hope 
you  will  both  be  well  established  and  independent  of 
everybody."  At  this  point  Lady  Laura  gave  a  sigh; 
and  then,  meeting  her  son's  eyes,  pressed  his  hand,  ex- 
claiming, "  I  have  not  told  you  half  what  I  suffered 
while  you  were  away,  nor  how  thankful  I  feel  to  have 
you  with  me  once  more." 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   CREWDSONS 

JosiAH  Crewdson  was  a  cloth-merchant  of  Leeds, 
where  for  many  years  his  family  had  held  a  good  position, 
and  were  esteemed  and  respected  by  their  fellow-towns- 
men. They  adhered  closely  to  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  sect  to  which  they  belonged.  Josiah  therefore  wore 
the  dress  almost  universally  adopted  by  strict  Friends. 
His  coat,  retaining  its  swallow  tails,  gave  way  a  little  in 
the  matter  of  the  old  straight  collar,  which  a  lining  of  vel- 
vet, turned  down,  served  partly  to  hide ;  and  instead  of  a 
white  cravat,  he  adopted  a  scarf  of  black  silk  or  satin; 
but  with  these  exceptions  his  costume  was  in  all  respects 
that  of  the  old  school. 

In  appearance  Josiah  was  short  and  broad  set,  with 
ruddy,  whiskerless  face,  and  an  undue  amount  of  colour, 
which  seemed  to  deepen  like  a  girl's  on  the  smallest  provo- 
cation. Had  it  not  been  for  the  excessive  gravity  of  his 
speech  and  manner,  he  would  have  struck  people  as 
boyish.  And  boyish  his  face  really  was,  although  his 
figure  might  have  belonged  to  a  middle-aged  man.  Ex- 
cept when  engaged  in  business,  Josiah  was  painfully  shy, 
and  very  sensitive  as  to  his  own  personal  defects.  He 
greatly  envied  the  ease  of  manner  and  fluency  of  speech 
which  most  men  seemed  naturally  to  possess;  and  he 
often  wondered  what  could  possibly  make  him  so  bashful 
and  stupid.  These  two  defects  resulted  entirely  from  the 
hard  school  in  which  his  boyhood  and  youth  had  been 
passed. 
54 


DOROTHY   FOX  55 

His  father,  a  stem,  narrow-minded  man,  had  certain 
fixed  notions  and  plans  on  which  he  invariably  acted,  and 
for  which  he  could  give  no  better  reason  than  that  such 
was  his  rule.  It  was  his  rule,  for  instance,  never  to  allow 
the  smallest  indulgence  to  his  children,  but  to  deny  them 
every  amusement.  He  punished  each  small  offence,  and 
magnified  an  omission  into  a  glaring  fault.  He  con- 
demned all  lightness  of  heart,  and  called  all  manifesta- 
tion of  tenderness  nonsensical  and  ridiculous.  His  two 
daughters,  who  were  many  years  older  than  Josiah,  were 
cast  in  the  same  mould  as  their  father.  To  them  it  was  no 
hard  task  to  obey  regulations  which  exactly  fitted  in  with 
their  own  cramped  views. 

But  Josiah  was  not  a  Crewdson.  He  took  after  the 
mother,  who  had  died  when  he  was  born;  and  for  this 
abominable  want  of  sense  the  family  never  entirely  for- 
gave him. 

Surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  of  life,  the  Crewdsons 
ought  to  have  been  a  cheerful,  happy  family;  instead  of 
which  they  were  dull  and  gloomy.  The  silence  of  a  prison 
seemed  to  reign  over  them.  They  seldom  met  save  at 
meals,  where  conversation  was  strictly  forbidden.  Ex- 
cept to  ask  for  what  they  needed,  not  a  voice  was  raised. 
Directly  the  business  of  eating  was  over,  all  the  members 
were  expected  to  occupy  themselves  immediately  with 
their  duties.  Amusements  were  regarded  as  contemptible 
snares,  which  old  Crewdson  said  were  not  needed  by 
rational  beings.  H,  therefore,  Josiah,  as  a  boy,  interested 
himself  in  any  little  diversion  which  in  the  case  of  one 
differently  brought  up  would  have  been  extremely  tame 
and  uninteresting,  Jemima  or  Kezia  were  down  upon  him, 
and  if  he  did  not  at  once  relinquish  his  newly  found 
hobby,  woe  betide  him.  Thus  was  he  kept  in  utter  sub- 
jection;   his  spirit  curbed,  his  geniality  suppressed,  his 


56  DOROTHY   FOX 

tongue  tied,  and  his  whole  nature  turned,  as  it  were,  from 

its  natural  source  and  diverted  into  the  groove  which  his 
father  had  laid  down  for  it.  And  when  old  Crewdson 
died  people  wondered  why  Josiah  continued  just  the  same 
man,  permitting  his  two  sisters  to  rule  his  household  and 
lecture  and  snub  him  as  they  had  done  all  his  lifetime. 
They  forgot  that  twenty-five  years  of  browbeating  leaves 
such  an  amount  of  bashfulness  and  spiritlessness,  that  un- 
less a  man  turn  at  once  into  a  bully  and  a  tyrant,  many 
years  will  hardly  suffice  to  remove  it.  In  one  thing  Jo- 
siah's  father  had  not  laboured  in  vain,  and  that  was  to 
make  his  son  a  thorough  man  of  business.  Josiah's 
capacity  for  business  was  the  only  thing  the  old  man 
appreciated  in  him.  The  lad  soon  saw  that  on  this  ground 
they  met  on  an  equal  footing,  that  his  diffidence  gave  way, 
and  his  natural  good  sense  had  full  swing.  He  showed 
such  undoubted  talent  that  for  some  years  before  his 
father's  death  the  entire  management  had  almost  fallen 
into  his  hands,  and  the  trade,  which  was  very  considerable, 
had  steadily  increased.  Josiah  was  accordingly  looked 
upon  as  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  prosperous  of  the 
younger  members  belonging  to  the  Society  of  Friends. 

Between  the  Crewdsons  and  the  Foxes  there  had 
always  been  a  close  intimacy,  and  it  was  the  wish  of 
Nathaniel  Fox  and  old  Stephen  Crewdson  that  this  bond 
might  be  still  further  strengthened  by  the  ultimate  mar- 
riage of  Dorothy  and  Josiah.  Josiah  had  not  seen  Doro- 
thy since  she  was  a  girl  of  fourteen.  But  even  then  he 
quite  regarded  her  as  his  destined  future  wife ;  and  many 
people  would  have  been  somewhat  surprised  to  know  that 
this  sedate-looking  man,  who  was  apparently  engrossed 
in  his  business  (for  besides  being  a  cloth  merchant,  he 
was  a  railway  and  bank  director),  looked  forward  with 
the  greatest  satisfaction  to  the  time  when  a  sweet  young 


DOROTHY   FOX  5;r. 

wife  would  lovingly  greet  his  return  and  brighten  his 
home,  taking  the  place  of  the  two  gaunt  figures,  who, 
seated  on  the  stiffest  of  horse-hair  chairs,  and  clothed  in 
the  most  terribly  severe  coloured  alpacas,  now  considered 
it  their  duty  to  bear  their  testimony  and  uphold  their 
principles  whenever  he  proposed  anything  pleasant  or  a 
little  contrary  to  their  established  customs.  Yes,  the  fact 
was  that  Josiah's  warm  answers  were  often  checked  by 
the  thought  that  very  soon  the  whole  domestic  arrange- 
ments would  be  changed. 

The  proposed  alliance  between  their  brother  and  Doro- 
thy Fox  was  of  course  no  secret  to  the  Miss  Crewdsons. 
As  it  had  been  an  arrangement  of  their  father's,  they  en- 
tirely approved  of  it.  In  common  with  most  of  the  lead- 
ing Friends,  they  considered  it  an  excellent  and  sensible 
union,  and  one  which  it  was  now  almost  high  time  to 
bring  to  a  conclusion.  Dorothy  was  nineteen,  and  twenty- 
one  was  considered  a  fitting  age  for  a  maiden  to  become  a 
wife.  Two  years  would  thus  be  given  for  a  more  open 
engagement,  and  then  the  necessary  preparation  for  set- 
tling would  all  be  properly  gone  about ;  for  nothing  done 
in  haste  could,  according  to  the  Crewdson  ideas,  be  per- 
formed with  that  decency  and  order  which  befitted 
Friends. 

The  thought  that  it  was  high  time  these  two  young 
people  should  see  a  little  more  of  each  other  had  also 
entered  Nathaniel  Fox's  head.  Therefore  it  was  fixed, 
after  a  consultation  with  his  wife,  that  an  invitation 
should  be  sent  to  Josiah,  requesting  him  to  spend  a  short 
time  at  Plymouth.  Nathaniel  said  he  knew  his  friend  was 
too  much  occupied  to  make  a  long  stay,  but  the  more  time 
he  could  give  them  the  better  pleased  they  should  be. 

Josiah  readily  accepted  the  invitation ;  and  it  was  with 
no  little  excitement  that  he  was  now  looking  forward  to 


58  DOROTHY  FOX 

seeing  his  future  wife.  He  began  to  arrange  matters  so 
that  he  might  pay  a  visit  to  Exeter  on  the  way,  and  be 
present  at  a  wedding  to  which  he  had  been  invited,  and 
which  was  about  to  take  place  between  John  Cash,  his 
cousin,  and  Ehzabeth  Dymond,  a  relative  of  the  Foxes. 
He  knew  Dorothy  had  been  asked  to  assist  as  bridesmaid ; 
but  no  sooner  had  Nathaniel  heard  that  Elizabeth  was  to 
be  adorned  in  a  white  lace  veil  and  an  orange  wreath, 
while  her  bridesmaids  were  to  keep  her  company  in 
coloured  dresses  and  bonnets,  than  he  sternly  refused  his 
consent  to  her  going.  He  said  he  would  as  soon  that 
his  daughter  should  exhibit  herself  before  a  booth  at  Ply- 
mouth fair,  as  take  part  in  such  a  raree-show. 

Jemima  and  Kezia  Crewdson  of  course  were  as  severe 
in  their  censure.  They  told  Josiah  that  he,  too,  ought  to 
bear  his  testimony  against  such  worldly  wickedness  by 
refusing  to  be  present;  but  a  letter  from  Nathaniel,  in 
which  he  begged  Josiah  to  go,  and  seize  the  opportunity 
of  rebuking  the  wedding-party,  had  altered  their  tone. 
They  now  employed  every  moment  they  were  with  their 
brother  in  repeating  to  him  the  various  remarks  that  had 
occurred  to  them  as  suitable  for  him  to  say,  and  which 
were  calculated  most  effectually  to  damp  all  cheerfulness 
and  hilarity. 

Josiah,  however,  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  say- 
ing one  word  of  rebuke.  He  was  too  painfully  alive  to 
his  own  awkwardness  and  shyness  to  contemplate  stand- 
ing up  before  a  number  of  people,  many  of  them  strangers 
to  him,  and  delivering  himself  of  a  caustic  speech.  But 
as  his  habit  was,  he  silently  listened  to  all  their  conversa- 
tion, not  even  indulging  in  a  yes  or  no,  unless  absolutely 
compelled. 

He  was  to  start  the  next  morning  very  early,  so  he  sat 
attentively  while  Jemima,  who  had  packed  up  his  things, 


DOROTHY   FOX  59 

gave  him  the  necessary  information  as  to  the  reasons 
which  had  made  her  apparently  collect  together  the  most 
incongruous  assortment  of  material.  It  was  rather 
amusing  to  see  these  two  women  regarding  their  business- 
like brother  as  utterly  incapable.  They  had  done  so  when 
he  was  a  school-boy,  and  so  they  did  now.  They  packed 
his  box  for  him,  and  they  put  up  his  parcels;  but  when 
Kezia  commenced  to  give  him  various  hints  as  to  his 
mode  of  conduct  towards  Dorothy,  it  became  too  ridicu- 
lous, and  Josiah  was  obliged  to  return  her  a  mild  reproof. 

"  Thank  thee,  Kezia,  but,  doubtless,  when  the  time 
comes  I  shall  find  words  to  make  myself  agreeable  to 
Dorothy." 

"  That  speech  is  somewhat  self-sufficient,  Josiah," 
answered  Jemima,  immediately  taking  up  the  cudgels  for 
her  sister — "  a  fault  our  father  always  warned  thee  espe- 
cially to  guard  against.  Kezia's  remark  was  a  just  one; 
and  Dorothy  Fox,  if  she  is  what  I  take  her  to  be,  is  too 
earnest  an  upholder  of  our  principles  to  be  caught  by 
frivolous  words  and  worldly  phrases." 

Josiah  knew  that  any  answer  would  only  draw  him  into 
an  argument  in  which  he  was  certain  to  come  off  worst, 
so  he  made  no  further  comment,  but  promised  to  deliver 
all  the  messages  he  was  charged  with,  particularly  to  tell 
Patience  Fox  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  have  a  visit 
from  Dorothy,  in  order  that  they  might  become  better 
acquainted.  Then  they  bade  him  farewell,  and  hoped, 
grimly,  that  he  would  enjoy  himself. 

"  Thank  thee,"  returned  Josiah,  "  I  think  I  shall.  This 
is  the  first  holiday  I  have  had  for  so  long  that  I  shall  do 
my  best  to  make  it  pleasant." 

"  Well,"  said  Jemima,  with  a  gloomy  nod  of  the  head, 
"  I  wish  it  may  turn  out  so." 

"  One  would  not  give  credit  to  thy  wish  by  thy  face," 


6o  DOROTHY   FOX 

laughed  JosiaH,  for  the  prospect  of  the  change  had  raised 
his  spirits,  and  made  him  unusually  talkative  and  bold. 
The  sisters  looked  at  each  other,  as  though  they  said,  "  If 
he  was  going  to  see  the  Foxes  in  this  spirit,  what  will 
Dorothy  think  of  him?" 

"  There  is  one  thing  thou  shouldst  bear  in  mind,  Jo- 
siah,"  said  Kezia,  looking  with  her  most  severe  aspect; 
"  and  that  is,  that  flippancy  of  speech  leads  to  much  error, 
and  is  against  the  principles  thou  hast  been  taught  to 
obey." 

"  Yes ;  and  it  was  a  thing  our  father  especially  warned 
thee  against,"  added  Jemima.  "  I  have  often  heard  him 
say,  that  even  a  fool  when  he  was  silent  was  counted  a 
wise  man,"  With  which  flattering  remark,  Josiah  was 
left  to  his  own  reflections. 


CHAPTER   VI 

HER   ladyship's   PLANS 

Lady  Laura  Verschoyle's  house  was  a  small  ex- 
crescence on  a  sort  of  by-way  which  connected  a  fashion- 
able London  square  with  a  fashionable  London  street. 
Lady  Laura  always  spoke  of  her  house  as  27,  Egmont 
Street,  which  was  true,  only  it  would  have  been  more 
correct  to  have  said  27A,  Egmont  Street.  The  letter  a 
seemed  a  very  trifling  addition,  yet  the  difference  that 
such  a  small  sign  indicated  between  the  houses  was  some- 
what startling;  for  whereas  No.  27,  Egmont  Street, 
would  have  been  termed  "  that  desirable  family  mansion," 
and  was  the  town  house  of  a  baronet  with  £15,000  a  year, 
27A,  Egmont  Street,  would  have  been  advertised  as  "  an 
elegant  bijou  residence,"  and  was  the  sole  dwelling-place 
of  Lady  Laura  Verschoyle,  who  on  £1500  a  year  found  it 
very  difficult  to  compete  with  her  more  fortunate  neigh- 
bours. Had  she  been  contented  to  live  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Park  she  might  have  had  a  cheerful,  comfortable 
house  instead  of  this  inconvenient  one,  where,  to  make  a 
tolerably  good  reception-room,  all  the  other  apartments 
had  been  robbed  of  their  height  or  breadth.  27A  had  a 
most  cheerless  prospect,  the  front  being  shadowed  by  the 
high  garden  wall  of  a  grand  house  which  looked  into  the 
Park.  All  the  back  windows  were  frosted  over,  that  no 
glimpse  might  be  caught  of  the  mews  into  which  they 
opened.  Taking  it  as  a  whole,  it  would  have  been  difficult 
to  find  a  like  rented  abode  with  so  little  to  recommend  it 
besides  what  was  to  Lady  Laura  its  all-powerful  attrac- 

61 


62  DOROTHY   FOX 

tion — the  fact  of  its  being  situated  in  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  localities  of  London. 

The  jesting,  laughing,  and  quarrelling  which  Lady 
Laura  could  not  help  hearing  from  the  back  could  not 
offend  her  so  much  when  she  remembered  that  it  came 
from  the  grooms  or  coachmen  of  a  marquis  or  an  earl; 
and  though  the  chief  passers-by  were  footmen,  pages, 
or  tradesmen's  porters,  they  were  all  either  going  to  or 
coming  from  some  grand  house,  and  so  found  more  favour 
in  Lady  Laura's  eyes  than  the  fine  stalwart  sons  and  fresh 
pretty  daughters  of  "  those  middle-class  people  who  are 
always  trying  to  seem  better  than  they  are"  would  have 
done. 

Lady  Laura,  with  her  son  and  daughter,  had  left  Shil- 
ston  Hall  the  day  before,  and  arrived  at  her  house  in 
Egmont  Street,  intending  to  spend  a  few  days  there,  and 
then  go  on  to  Dyne  Court.  The  horses  were  turned  out ; 
the  footman  and  housemaid  were  away  on  board  wages, 
and  only  the  cook  (with  her  niece  from  the  country)  re- 
mained of  the  usual  household.  The  curtains  had  been  all 
taken  down,  and  the  furniture  covered  up  for  the  sum- 
mer; and  as  the  family  were  only  going  to  stay  a  short 
time.  Lady  Laura  had  not  thought  it  necessary  to  have 
more  than  the  dining-room  got  ready.  They  could  man- 
age, she  said,  without  going  to  the  expense  of  recalling  the 
other  servants.  Certainly  on  this  occasion  circumstances 
were  very  much  against  27A,  Egmont  Street,  looking  the 
least  like  a  house  speaking  of  welcome  and  an  invitation  to 
settle  down  and  enjoy  the  quiet  pleasures  of  life. 

So,  at  least,  thought  Captain  Verschoyle  as  he  de- 
scended rather  earlier  than  cook  had  expected  the  morn- 
ing after  their  arrival.  The  close  heat  and  the  active 
habits  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  mews  had  driven  sleep 
from  his  eyes  at  a  very  early  hour,  and  he  now  some- 


DOROTHY   FOX  63 

what  ruefully  surveyed  the  small  uncomfortable  room  as 
the  woman  made  as  hasty  a  retreat  as  possible,  apologising 
for  being  so  late,  and  promising  breakfast  as  soon  as  it 
could  be  got  ready. 

"  What  an  awfully  dingy  place  this  is !"  thought  he ; 
"  how  can  they  exist  here  ?  I  don't  wonder  at  that  poor 
girl  wanting  to  get  married.  Well !  I  hope  when  I  have 
a  wife  I  shall  have  a  better  home  than  this ;  although  she 
must  help  to  provide  it,  for  I  have  not  much  more  than 
half  my  mother's  income.  I  shall  certainly  look  after  this 
heiress  Audrey  was  speaking  of,  for  money  is  a  consider- 
able sweetener  of  life." 

And  then  certain  memories  of  his  early  days  arose, 
when  he  had  pictured  a  home  and  an  angel  to  share  it; 
and  he  smiled  over  these  visions,  so  dimmed  now.  In 
books  you  might  read  of  love's  enduring  through  life; 
poets  spoke  of  its  standing  strong  unto  death ;  but  speak- 
ing from  his  own  experience,  he  had  never  seen  it  stand 
out  before  an  elder  son  or  wealthier  man.  Several  times 
he  had  been  deceived  into  thinking  he  had  secured  a  love 
pure  and  fresh  enough  to  withstand  all  other  temptations, 
but  he  had  been  rudely  awakened  from  his  dream  to 
find  that  his  successful  rival  possessed  the  real  "  Open, 
sesame,"  to  all  women's  hearts — a  rent-roll  or  a  cheque- 
book. 

So  he  began  to  resolve  that  he  would  try  the  barter  sys- 
tem, and  see  how  much  money  his  good  looks  and  name 
and  position  could  bring  him.  An  uncle  had  left  him  an 
income  of  £700  a  year  independent  of  his  mother,  but,  as 
he  often  ruefully  said,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  think 
of  marrying  upon  that.  No,  no;  he  would  do  as  other 
men  did.  He  would  go  in  for  money,  and  he  might 
chance  to  get  a  nice  girl,  and  if  he  didn't — why,  she  must 
go  her  way  and  he  must  go  his.    Then  he  jumped  up  sud- 


64  DOROTHY   FOX 

idenly  and  exclaimed,  "  What  a  bothersome  nuisance 
poverty  is !  I  wish  I  was  not  such  an  extravagant  fellow  \ 
a  good  wife  would  be  the  saving  of  me,  if  she  only  loved 
me  enough.  She  would  soon  make  me  ashamed  of  my 
selfishness,  and  I  believe  make  me  do  anything  to  please 
her.  I  wonder  why  fate  has  never  sent  such  a  woman 
across  my  path?  I  suppose  there  are  such  treasures  in 
the  world." 

Here  his  reflections  were  suddenly  brought  to  an  end 
by  the  entrance  of  his  sister,  who,  hearing  from  Marshall 
that  Captain  Verschoyle  was  already  in  the  dining-room, 
came  hurrying  down  in  her  morning  wrapper  to  keep 
him  company  at  breakfast. 

"  Accept,  my  dear  Charlie,  this  tribute  to  fraternal  af- 
fection— the  sight  of  your  beloved  and  admired  sister 
minus  the  adornment  of  person  substituted  by  the  modern 
Briton  for  the  woad  of  their  ancestors." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  under  any  circumstances," 
said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  for  I  was  just  beginning  to 
take  a  very  rueful  view  of  things  in  general." 

"  Ah,  now  you  have  just  spoilt  your  compliment," 
laughed  Audrey ;  "  had  you  stopped  at  circumstances  I 
should  have  tapped  you  on  the  shoulder,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  stage  coquette,  and  cried  *  courtier ;'  as  it  is,  ro- 
mance has  vanished,  and  I  am  merely  regarded  as  a  dis- 
peller  of  *  the  blues.'  So  ring  the  bell  and  we'll  sit  down 
to  breakfast  in  the  Darby  and  Joan  style  of  everyday 
life." 

As  soon  as  the  servant  had  departed  Audrey  made  a 
little  moue  at  the  breakfast-table  and  said, — 

"  This  does  not  look  well  after  Shilston,  does  it?" 

"  No,"  replied  her  brother ;  "  but  what  an  awfully  dis- 
mal place  this  is — so  close  and  stuffy!  Besides,  I  can 
hardly  breathe." 


DOROTHY   FOX  65 

"  Poor  old  Charlie !"  exclaimed  Audrey ;  "  it  is  too  bad 
not  to  make  home  look  its  best  to  welcome  you  back.  It 
is  a  most  uncomfortable  room,  and  just  now  it  certainly 
looks  its  worst.  Whenever  I  return  from  staying  out,  I 
always  feel  that  we  have  the  most  inconvenient  and  the 
most  dingy  house  in  the  world — a  sham,  my  dear,  like 
the  pleasure  play  in  life,  and  a  hanger-on  to  a  grand 
locality,  just  as  we  are  to  our  noble  relations.  Oh !  when 
these  things  grate  on  me  and  rub  me  up  the  wrong  way, 
as  they  so  often  do,  is  it  any  wonder  that  I  turn  idolater 
and  worship  mammon?" 

"  Well,  no,"  returned  Captain  Verschoyle.  "  I  feel 
with  you.  I  do  not  believe  either  of  us  would  shrink 
from  good  honest  poverty,  but  it  is  the  straining  after 
what  we  cannot  reach  that  frets  one.  I  only  wish  that 
dear  mother  of  ours  would  feel  the  same,  and  always  say 
she  cannot  afford  what  really  can  give  neither  you  nor  her 
much  pleasure." 

"  Ah !  there  it  lies,"  said  Audrey.  "  I  have  become  so 
accustomed  to  deception  that  I  sometimes  ask,  am  I  not 
cheating  myself  into  an  idea  that  I  do  not  care  for  those 
very  excitements  which  form  the  whole  business  of  my 
life?  No,  I  can  only  be  sure  of  one  thing  insuring  hap- 
piness, and  that  is  money;  and  I  intend  to  go  to  Dyne 
Court,  armed  to  the  teeth  with  charms  to  subdue  its  mas- 
ter, and  come  away  only  to  return  to  it  as  its  mistress — 
Mrs.  Richard  Ford.  An  aristocratic  name,  is  it  not?  I 
hear  mamma  whispering  to  people,  *  An  old  Windsor 
family,  mentioned,  if  you  recollect,  by  Shakespeare.'  Let 
me  see,  Mrs.  Ford  was  a  merry  wife — hum!  But  from 
the  view  I  at  present  take  of  Mr.  Richard  Ford,  his  wife 
will  be  a  merry  widow." 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughingly  shook  his  head,  saying, 
"  Come,  it  is  too  bad  to  be  sending  the  old  gentleman  off 

5 


66  DOROTHY   FOX 

into  the  other  world  before  you  have  got  possession  of 
him  in  this  one.  But  how  about  my  heiress?  for  I  am 
thinking  seriously  of  her;  it  is  quite  time  I  got  mar- 
ried, and  as  you  seem  to  think  her  ladylike  and  tractable, 
I  will  resign  myself,  and  bid  farewell  to  my  early  visions." 

"  What  were  they?"  inquired  Audrey. 

"  Oh,  a  home  reigned  over  by  an  ideal  creature,  who 
was  too  ethereal  to  care  for  more  than  I  could  give  her, 
and  earthly  enough  to  love,  with  all  her  heart,  a  stupid, 
commonplace  fellow  like  me." 

"  You  dear  old  creature !"  said  Audrey.  "  Any  woman 
might  be  proud  of  you ;  so  don't  take  such  a  very  limited 
view  of  your  mental  and  bodily  advantages.  Miss  Selina 
Bingham  will  very  readily  listen  to  your  suit,  I  am  sure, 
as  I  should  do  if  I  had  £50,000 ;  but,  being  as  I  am,  pru- 
dence would  bid  me  take  safety  in  flight  from  such  a 
'  braw  wooer.' " 

"  Audrey,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  I  wonder  if  you 
are  as  mercenary  as  you  would  have  me  think.  One 
thing  I  do  not  believe,  and  that  is,  that  you  ever  were  in 
love." 

"  No,"  replied  his  sister,  looking  very  serious. 
"  Among  all  the  slings  and  arrows  which  outrageous 
fortune  has  aimed  at  me,  a  merciful  Providence  has  de- 
fended me  from  Love's  bow.  I  cannot  say,"  she  con- 
tinued, laughing,  "  that  I  have  not  felt  the  scratch  of  the 
arrow  as  it  glanced  off;  and,  slight  as  the  wound  has 
always  been,  it  has  just  given  me  an  idea  of  the  force  with 
which  it  could  come.  This  has  made  me  look  to  my 
breastplate,  that  I  might  render  it  invulnerable.  But  that 
was  years  ago,  and  I  am  tolerably  safe  in  my  own 
strength  now,  and  think  that  I  could  hold  a  successful 
siege  against  the  most  fascinating  younger  son  in  Eng- 
land." 


DOROTHY   FOX  ^ 

"  Don't  be  too  confident,"  said  her  brother.  "  Many  a 
stronghold  that  has  stoutly  prepared  itself  for  a  siege  has 
been  taken  by  storm." 

"  My  dear  Charles,  as  your  mother  would  say,  do  not  be 
guilty  of  jesting  on  such  a  grave  subject.  Apropos  of 
mamma,  I  have  often  thought  over  what  line  she  would 
pursue  if  we  were  to  marry  poor  nobodies.  Of  course, 
she  would  be  furious,  but  I  verily  believe  she  would  go 
about  telling  our  friends  that  she  was  overjoyed,  for  she 
had  always  brought  up  her  children  to  follow  the  dictates 
of  their  hearts." 

"  Come,  come,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  you  are 
too  hard  on  the  poor  mater." 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  mean  to  be  so,"  said  Audrey.  "  But 
mamma,  as  a  study,  is  perfect ;  she  is  so  thorough  in  her 
cajolery.  When  I  begin  to  be  illusory  I  feel  after  a  time 
that  I  should  like  to  tell  people  the  truth.  My  vanity 
wants  to  be  gratified  by  showing  how  clever  I  am  at  de- 
ception. But  it  is  not  so  with  mamma.  She  believes  in 
her  fraud,  and  conveys  it  to  others  with  such  a  semblance 
of  truth,  that  sometimes  even  /  am  staggered.  Don't 
look  so  shocked,  Charlie,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  undutiful ; 
but  this  is  the  way  I  have  been  brought  up.  How  can  you 
expect  me  to  have  the  faith  which  they  say  girls  should 
have  in  their  mothers,  when  the  very  first  things  I  re- 
member of  mamma  are,  '  Don't  tell  your  papa  such  a 
thing,'  or  '  If  Aunt  Spencer  asks  you,  you  must  say — * 
well — something  quite  opposed  to  the  truth?  However, 
it  is  mean  of  me  to  shelter  myself  under  the  cloak  of  my 
teaching;  I  ought  rather  to  thank  her  for  having  given 
me  this  experience,  so  that  if  ever  I  have  children,  and 
cannot  gain  their  love,  I'll  try  to  gain  their  respect.  And 
sometimes,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  think  that  is  my 
last  hope  of  being  what  I  sometimes  wish  to  be — ^a  better 


68  DOROTHY   FOX 

woman.  But,  there,  I  really  don't  know — I  am  not  worse 
than  my  neighbours;  and  with  that  very  original  and 
consolatory  remark  I  will  conclude  my  little  speech,  go 
and  pay  my  devoirs  to  her  ladyship,  and  take  her  mater- 
nal advice  on  the  most  becoming  toilette  to  be  worn  at 
Dyne  Court." 

She  left,  and  Captain  Verschoyle  began  to  consider 
what  he  had  to  do  in  London,  and  what  he  should  want 
in  the  country.  He  had  sent  Hallett  off  on  a  holiday,  and 
therefore  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  busy  packing,  only  he 
did  not  quite  see  what  he  wanted.  So  he,  too,  wandered 
to  his  mother's  room,  to  seek  her  advice,  which  on  all 
matters  of  dress  and  adornment  was  unquestionably  good. 

Lady  Laura  admitted  Her  son  after  a  little  hesitation 
and  scrambling  about  the  room.  He  found  her  at  break- 
fast, the  different  chairs  being  covered  with  dresses  o^ 
various  kinds,  with  hats,  bonnets,  and  mantles  which 
Marshall  was  consulting  her  about,  as  to  this  trimming 
being  altered,  or  those  flowers  changed,  so  that  they 
might  better  accord  with  the  fashion  of  the  new  additions 
to  the  wardrobe. 

She  motioned  Captain  Verschoyle  into  a  chair,  say- 
ing,— 

"  In  one  minute,  my  dear,  I'll  attend  to  you." 

Then,  turning  again  to  the  maid,  she  went  on  with  some 
final  directions  and  suggestions,  after  which  she  dismissed 
her,  and  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  saying,  in  a 
piteous  tone, — 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Charles,  I  devoutly  hope  this  plan  for 
Audrey  will  succeed,  for  it  is  getting  more  than  my 
strength  will  bear  to  be  constantly  contriving  that  her 
dress  shall  appear  as  various  and  fresh  as  that  of  the  girls 
we  meet  out.  You  know  I  should  be  dead  to  feeling  did 
it  not  pain  me  to  have  her  still  on  my  hands.    Consider- 


DOROTHY   FOX  69 

ing  the  advantages  and  opportunities  she  has  had,  and 
the  efforts  I  have  made,  it  is  wonderful  to  me  that  she  is 
not  married.  When  I  look  round  and  see  the  plain,  com- 
monplace girls  (with  mothers  who  have  not  seemed  to 
care  a  pin  who  they  talked  to  or  danced  with)  married, 
and  married  well  too,  and  all  since  Audrey  came  out — 
well !  it  only  shows  one  that  there  must  be  some  higher 
power  than  ours  moving  in  such  matters," 

"  She'll  get  married  yet,  mother,"  answered  her  son, 
"  I  am  certainly  surprised  at  her  being  single  still ;  but, 
perhaps,  you  have  expected  too  much  for  her.  Who  is 
this  man  we're  going  to  visit  now,  and  where  did  you  meet 
him?" 

"  We  met  him  last  Christmas  at  the  Bouveries,"  replied 
her  ladyship.  "  Audrey  took  part  in  some  charades  and 
tableaux  they  got  up,  and  he  so  admired  her,  and  paid 
her  so  much  attention,  that  I  quite  thought  he  would  have 
proposed  then ;  but  not  being  able  to  find  out  everything 
about  him,  I  did  not  encourage  him  so  much  as  I  should 
now.  He  is  quite  a  millionaire;  and  Dyne  Court  is  a 
lovely  place.  He  said  then  that  he  hoped  we  would  come 
and  see  him  in  the  summer,  when  this  new  place,  which 
he  had  recently  bought,  and  which  was  then  undergoing 
extensive  alterations,  would  be  ready;  and  about  six 
weeks  since  I  had  a  letter  begging  me  to  fix  my  time,  and 
he  would  then  ask  a  few  people  to  meet  us." 

"  So  you  thought  that  looked  like  business,"  laughed 
her  son. 

"  Coming  from  such  a  man,  I  did.  He's  quite  one  of 
those  new  people,"  continued  Lady  Laura ;  "  but  so  sen- 
sible— he  couldn't  at  first  believe  that  I  was  Audrey's 
mother.  I  have  quite  forgotten  now  how  he  made  his. 
money,  but  I  daresay  it  was  by  brewing,  or  Manchester, 
perhaps;   and  it's  quite  the  fashion  for  good  families  to 


70  DOROTHY   FOX 

marry  those  sort  of  people,  provided  they  are  very 
wealthy." 

"  But,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  he  must  be  a  great 
deal  older  than  Audrey." 

"  Well,  yes,  there  is  a  difference  certainly,  still  nothing 
to  speak  of.  I  almost  wish  he  would  wear  a  wig,  for 
being  so  bald  makes  him  look  rather  old.  However,  when 
they  are  married  it  won't  make  any  difference,  and  if 
Audrey  cared  for  him  to  look  younger  I  should  suggest 
the  wig;  but  I  don't  think  she  will  trouble  herself  about 
him  then,  and  he  is  certainly  not  older  than  Lord  Totnes 
was,  nor  Lady  Gwendoline  Farnham's  husband." 

"  I  hope  he's  presentable,"  exclaimed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes !"  answered  his  mother.  "  Of  course 
you  must  be  prepared  for  the  manner  of  the  British 
merchant — honest  and  bluff;  but  many  people  like  that 
now.  I  remember  Lord  Tewkesbury  saying  that  nothing 
pleased  him  better.  However,  you  will  soon  be  able  to 
judge  for  yourself.  We  shall  leave  on  Thursday  morn- 
ing, and  I  hope  we  shall  all  enjoy  our  visit,  for  Audrey  is 
not  the  only  one  I  have  formed  plans  for.  The  welfare 
of  my  children  is  always  next  my  heart,  my  dear  Charles ; 
and  if  I  could  see  you  both  well  married,  with  good 
establishments,  such  as  your  family  and  position  entitle 
you  to  expect,  I  could  sink  into  comparative  insignificance, 
feeling  that  I  had  carried  out  and  accomplished  my  work 
in  life,  and  had  not  lived  in  vain." 


CHAPTER   VII 

JOSIAH    CREWDSON's   WOOING 

In  every  woman's  breast  is  born  the  desire  to  capti- 
vate. It  depends  on  her  character  whether  or  not  this 
may  develop  itself  into  vanity.  But  in  its  early  stage, 
when  she  is  yet  totally  unacquainted  with  her  own  power, 
she  views  her  charms  with  hopes  and  fears,  and  her  great 
desire  is  that  she  may  please.  It  was  this  which  made 
Dorothy  Fox  linger  over  her  adornment  longer  than 
was  her  habit  on  that  afternoon  when  Josiah  Crewdson 
was  expected. 

He  was  to  arrive  at  five  o'clock,  and  it  was  now  past 
four,  and  time  that  she  should  join  her  mother,  whose 
step  she  had  heard  descending  the  stairs  fully  ten  min- 
utes before.  Yet  Dorothy  returned  to  the  glass  and 
gave  herself  another  inspection.  She  was  fully  ac- 
quainted with  her  father's  wishes,  and  knew  the  reason 
of  this  visit.  The  attentions  she  was  bestowing  on  her 
appearance  were  therefore  only  the  natural  promptings 
of  a  woman's  heart  to  look  her  best  in  the  eyes  of  the 
man  who  is  her  lover;  for,  except  by  name,  Josiah 
Crewdson  was  almost  unknown  to  her.  She  had  hesi- 
tatingly asked  her  mother  if  she  had  not  better  put  on 
her  lavender  silk  dress,  and  Patience  had  accorded  an 
immediate  assent.  Dorothy,  therefore,  in  spite  of 
grave  colours  and  old-fashioned  style,  looked  such  a  girl 
as  the  most  fastidious  man  might  feel  pleased  to  let  his 
eyes  dwell  upon.  She  certainly  admired  herself,  and 
fearing  that  this  feeling,  which  was  not  entirely  new  to 

71 


^2  DOROTHY   FOX 

her,  might  not  be  quite  consistent,  she  hurried  down- 
stairs to  avoid  further  temptation. 

Patience  regarded  her  daughter  with  eyes  full  of 
motherly  pride  and  love,  and  then  the  thought  came  of 
that  someone  they  were  expecting  who  would  perhaps 
take  her  treasure  from  her.  At  this  she  repressed  a  little 
sigh,  which  made  Dorothy  declare  that  her  mother  had 
been  over-exerting  herself.  Then  she  fetched  her  work 
and  seated  herself  by  her  mother's  side  to  wait  Josiah's 
arrival.  After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  Patience's  reverie 
was  disturbed  by  Dorothy  saying, — 

"  I  am  glad  Josiah  was  present  at  Elizabeth's  wed- 
ding— it  will  be  so  nice  to  hear  all  about  it.  I  do  so 
wish  father  would  have  let  me  go." 

"  I  should  have  liked  thee  to  be  present,  because  it 
would  have  given  thee  pleasure,"  answered  Patience; 
"  and,"  she  added,  "  for  that  reason  thy  father  would 
have  desired  it  too;  the  dress  alone  made  him  refuse 
thee." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Dorothy  said,  suddenly, — 

"  Mother,  I  never  thought  our  dress  so  ugly  until  I 
saw  Audrey  Verschoyle.  Oh !  I  should  like  to  wear 
clothes  like  those  she  had  on.  Was  she  not  beauti- 
ful?" 

"  No,"  said  Patience,  "  I  did  not  think  her  beautiful. 
She  was  very  graceful  and  elegant,  and  with  a  face 
which  would  make  one  say  she  had  more  goodness  in  her 
heart  than  in  her  mouth.  She  seemed  to  take  a  great 
fancy  to  thee." 

"  Yes ;  she  said  she  wished  we  lived  nearer  one  an- 
other, that  she  might  often  see  me.  I  wish  so  too.  Are 
people  who  are  not  Friends  mostly  like  the  Verschoyles, 
I  wonder?" 

Patience  laughed.    "  That  way  of  putting  it  is  scarcely 


DOROTHY   FOX  73 

flattering  to  ourselves,  dear,"  she  said ;  "  though  doubt- 
less they  who  see  various  places  and  mix  with  various 
people  gain  a  more  agreeable  manner  and  mode  of  ex- 
pression than  stay-at-home  folks  like  us.  She  interested 
me  greatly,  although  not  so  much  as  her  brother  did. 
What  did  thou  think  of  him  ?" 

Dorothy  felt  vexed  with  herself  because  the  foolish 
colour  would  mount  into  her  face,  and  only  for  the  rea- 
son that  she  had  naturally  thought  a  good  deal  of  the 
handsome  stranger.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  indeed, 
when  he  was,  in  a  way,  the  hero  in  the  only  event  which 
had  ever  happened  in  the  whole  of  her  quiet  life?  So 
without  looking  up  she  answered, — 

"  He  was  quite  unlike  any  one  I  ever  saw  before. 
What  a  pity  that  he  should  be  a  soldier!  And  yet, 
mother,  dost  thou  know?  I  am  very  fond  of  reading 
about  soldiers  and  battles,  for  they  have  a  kind  of  charm 
for  me.    I  fear  sometimes  it  is  not  quite  right." 

Patience  smiled  at  Dorothy's  earnestness,  for  the  at- 
mosphere with  which  the  girl  was  surrounded  naturally 
had  its  effect  upon  her.  Dorothy  had  been  so  entirely 
nurtured  in  the  opinions  of  Friends  that  the  slightest 
deviation  into  anything  that  they  considered  unallowable 
was  looked  upon  by  her  as  a  failure  in  duty;  and  this 
erring  on  the  right  side,  as  Patience  considered  it,  only 
caused  her  to  feel  greater  anxiety  that  her  daughter 
should  see  more  of  the  world.  For  some  time  past  she 
had  been  urging  Nathaniel  to  give  his  consent  to  her 
paying  a  long-promised  visit  to  her  sister  Grace  in  Lon- 
don, and  afterwards  going  on  to  see  her  aunt  Abigail 
at  York. 

"  I  hope  thou  wilt  have  more  opportunity  given  thee 
of  seeing  the  world  than  I  have  had,  Dorothy,"  she  said. 
"  Sometimes  I  am  led  to  wonder  whether  our  views  are 


74.  DOROTHY   FOX 

not  a  little  narrowed  by  the  small  circle  in  which  we 
move.  Charles  Verschoyle  gave  me  much  to  reflect  upon 
by  his  description  of  the  late  war.  But  I  hear  footsteps 
— it  must  be — yes,  it  is  thy  father.  But  where  is  Josiah 
Crewdson?"  she  asked,  addressing  Nathaniel  as  he  en- 
tered. 

"  He  is  with  me,"  answered  Nathaniel,  "  only  I  have 
outstepped  him  by  coming  through  the  back  way  to 
speak  to  James.  Here  he  is,"  and  Nathaniel,  after  allow- 
ing Patience  to  welcome  their  guest,  took  him  by  the  arm 
and  led  him  up  to  Dorothy,  saying, — 

"Dost  thou  recollect  her?    This  is  Dorothy." 

Josiah  thought  he  stood  before  the  most  beautiful 
creature  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  and  all  the  speech 
which,  on  his  way  from  Exeter,  he  had  been  concocting, 
and  which  had  seemed  to  flow  more  glibly  each  time  he 
had  repeated  it  to  himself,  suddenly  died  away;  and  all 
his  nervous  shyness,  which  he  hoped  he  had  left  behind 
him  at  Leeds,  seemed  to  rush  back  upon  him,  and  he 
could  only  take  Dorothy's  stretched-out  hand  and  stam- 
mer,— 

"  Oh,  indeed !    How  art  thou?" 

Dorothy  answered  that  she  was  quite  well,  and  hoped 
he  was  the  same ;  and  then  Josiah  sat  down  in  the  most 
uncomfortable  position  on  the  nearest  chair,  and  fur- 
tively glanced  again  at  Dorothy,  who,  in  order  to  give  him 
time  to  recover  himself,  looked  steadily  in  another  direc- 
tion. 

Patience  asked  him  several  questions  relating  to  his 
journey,  until  Nathaniel,  finding  it  was  within  half  an 
hour  of  dinner-time,  suggested  that  Josiah  had  better 
be  shown  to  his  room.  He  and  Patience  went  off  with 
him,  and  Dorothy  was  left  alone. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  room,  Dorothy's  face 


DOROTHY   FOX  75^ 

assumed  a  very  blank  expression.  Oh,  how  different 
Josiah  was  from  what  she  had  thought !  Not  a  bit  the 
same.  He  was  so  plain — and  quite  fat — not  the  least 
like  the  man  she  expected  to  meet.  Poor  Josiah  cer- 
tainly suffered  very  much  by  comparison  with  a  figure 
which  had  for  the  last  few  weeks  moved  pretty  con- 
stantly in  Dorothy's  imagination.  Quite  unknown  as  it 
was  to  herself,  I  doubt  much  if  she  would  have  been  so 
painfully  struck  with  Josiah's  appearance  had  Fate  de- 
creed that  they  should  meet  before  her  adventure  with 
Captain  Verschoyle.  But  since  that  time  he  had  formed 
the  type  of  the  romance  hero  to  her — her  ideal  of  a 
lover;  whilst  Josiah's  light  eyes  and  whiskerless  face 
presented  a  sorry  contrast  to  this  standard  of  personal 
perfection. 

She  was  still  ruefully  contemplating  her  disappoint- 
ment, when  the  door  opened,  and  the  object  of  her 
thoughts,  having  completed  his  somewhat  hasty  toilette, 
entered  the  room.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  shake 
off  his  ridiculous  nervousness  this  time,  and  to  plunge 
headlong  into  any  topic  which  presented  itself.  But  with 
the  exception  of  that  never-failing  resource,  the  weather, 
not  an  idea  would  come  at  his  bidding.  So  he  said  that 
it  was  "  very  warm,  but  seasonable ;"  and  this  happy 
remark  being  agreed  to,  a  silence  ensued.  Then  Doro- 
thy remembered  that  she  was  not  quite  consistently  filling 
her  post  as  hostess,  and  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  her 
to  exert  herself ;  and  this  she  did  with  such  purpose  that 
Josiah  became  more  at  his  ease,  and  could  manage  to 
give  other  than  monosyllabic  answers  to  the  questions 
put  to  him.  The  wedding,  of  course,  proved  a  delightful 
theme  for  conversation,  and  by  the  time  that  Dorothy 
had  laughed  over  his  description  of  Elizabeth's  white 
stuff  dress  and  gauze  veil,  Josiah  plucked  up  courage 


•^^  DOROTHY   FOX 

sufficient  to  tell  her  how  much  more  he  should  have  en- 
joyed it  had  she  been  there. 

"  Elizabeth  told  me  to  tell  thee  that  she  missed  thy 
face  every  time  she  looked  at  her  bridesmaids,"  said  Jo- 
siah. 

"  Dear  Elizabeth,"  said  Dorothy,  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears,  "  she  is  always  so  kind.  Did  she  not  look  very 
pretty?" 

But  Josiah  was  too  lost  in  admiration  of  the  speaker's 
own  sweet  face  to  attend  to  her  words. 

"Eh?"  said  Dorothy. 

"What?"  replied  Josiah. 

"  Did  not  Elizabeth  look  very  pretty,  I  asked  thee," 
returned  Dorothy,  hardly  able  to  refrain  from  laughing 
at  his  fixed  gaze. 

"  Pretty !  oh,  yes,"  hastily  answered  Josiah,  brought 
to  a  sense  of  his  absent  manner  and  open-mouthed 
stare ;  "  but  I  was  thinking  of  thee ;  she  did  not  look 
like  thee." 

Here  Dorothy  laughed  outright,  declaring  that  he  was 
keeping  to  that  plainness  of  speech  enjoined  upon  them. 
On  this  Josiah  tried  to  defend  and  explain  himself,  but 
to  no  purpose — she  would  not  listen.  So,  when  Nathan- 
iel and  Patience  returned,  all  restraint  seemed  to  have 
vanished,  the  two  having  apparently  placed  themselves 
on  a  perfectly  familiar  footing.  Still,  before  the  even- 
ing was  over,  each  one  felt  that  entertaining  Josiah  was 
no  light  task.  At  dinner,  do  what  they  could,  it  was  im- 
possible to  draw  him  into  conversation.  Nathaniel  quite 
approved  of  children  being  brought  up  as  the  Crewdsons 
had  been — to  hold  their  tongues  at  meals  and  listen  to 
their  elders — ^but  when  people  arrived  at  years  of  dis- 
cretion it  was  only  fit  that  this  restraint  should  be  set 
aside.    It  was  just  as  well  to  make  the  time  pass  pleas- 


DOROTHY   FOX  77 

antly.  But  in  the  Crewdson  household  the  rule  of  silence 
still  held  good,  so  that  though  Josiah  made  the  effort,  he 
found  it  impossible.  When  his  plate  was  set  before  him, 
he  could  not  do  anything  but  eat  up  its  contents  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Then  he  felt  so  awkward  under  the  impres- 
sion of  watching  every  mouthful  the  others  ate,  that  he 
had  one  helping  after  another,  until  Dorothy  decided  that 
he  had  the  most  enormous  appetite  of  any  one  she  had 
ever  seen.  No  ale  or  wine  being  drunk  at  dinner,  coffee 
was  served  immediately  afterwards,  and  they  all  ad- 
journed to  the  drawing-room.  Here  Josiah  went  through 
another  trial  between  his  wish  to  assist  Dorothy,  who 
was  seated  at  the  table  pouring  out  the  coffee,  and  his 
fear  lest  he  might  by  some  awkwardness  or  other  make 
himself  ridiculous  in  her  eyes.  So  it  ended  by  his  sit- 
ting on  the  very  edge  of  his  chair  and  starting  up  like  a 
Jack-in-the-box  every  time  that  Dorothy  moved  to  hand 
the  cup  to  any  one.  At  last.  Patience,  taking  pity  on  his 
evident  bashfulness,  said  to  him, — 

"  If  thou  wert  to  sit  at  the  table,  Josiah,  thou  might 
perhaps  assist  Dorothy." 

After  the  coffee  was  cleared  away,  Nathaniel,  with  the 
view  of  bringing  the  two  together  (notwithstanding  that 
he  gave  himself  a  wonderful  stretch  indicative  of  relief 
as  soon  as  their  backs  were  turned),  proposed  that  Doro- 
thy should  show  Josiah  the  garden.  This  was  just  what 
Josiah  had  been  wishing  for.  But  the  moment  he  was 
alone  with  her  he  found  he  could  not  say  a  word.  So 
Dorothy  had  to  take  the  initiative,  and  tell  him  the 
names  of  the  flowers,  and  show  him  "  The  King's-heart" 
yew-tree. 

During  all  this  time  poor  Josiah  gazed  his  heart  away, 
so  that  he  lay  awake  for  hours  that  night  recalling  all 
that  she  had  said  and  done,  his  own  already  humble 


78'  DOROTHY   FOX 

opinion  of  himself  dwindling  into  nothing  as  in  the  quiet 
of  his  own  fancy  he  magnified  all  her  charms. 

Naturally,  the  newly  arrived  guest  was  freely  discussed 
by  the  whole  household,  who  unanimously  decided  that 
he  wasn't  at  all  the  man  for  Miss  Dorothy,  of  whom 
everybody  said  that  she  was  a  real  beauty,  more  like  a 
picture  than  a  Quaker.  Judith,  who  in  her  anxiety  to 
see  her  dear  child's  future  husband  had  come  out  that 
same  evening  from  Plymouth,  was  highly  indignant  at 
the  master  contemplating  such  a  match.  She  expressed 
her  opinions  so  plainly  that  Dorothy  had  to  take  up  the 
defence  of  Josiah,  whom  Judith  in  her  wrath  had  that 
moment  called  a  calf-faced  jolter-head. 

"  Oh,  Judith !"  replied  Dorothy,  reprovingly ;  "  it  is 
wrong  of  thee  to  speak  so  of  one  whom  father  thinks  so 
worthy." 

"  Worthy !"  echoed  Judith,  scornfully ;  "  worthy  of 
bein'  ducked  for  having  the  impudence  to  think  of  you, 
child,  when  every  day  you're  growin'  more  sweet." 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ?"  said  Patience,  who  had  en- 
tered unobserved. 

Judith,  who  stood  somewhat  in  awe  of  her  gentle  mis- 
tress, looked  a  little  confused  as  she  answered,  apologet- 
ically,— 

"  It's  only  me,  mistress,  lettin'  my  feelin's  roughen  my 
tongue,  and  they  both  run  on  a  good  deal  too  fast;  but 
Mr.  Crewdson  isn't  the  man  at  all  I  expected  to  see." 

"  No  ?"  said  Patience,  looking  rather  grave ;  "  but  we 
must  not  be  too  hasty  in  our  judgments,  Judith." 

"  I  think  when  he  is  more  accustomed  to  us,  we  shall 
like  him  better,"  put  in  Dorothy ;  "  he  is  so  shy  now." 

"  He  is  not  accustomed  to  strangers,"  said  Patience ; 
"  and  thy  father  tells  me  old  Stephen  Crewdson  was  a 
stern  man,  and  kept  his  children  in  great  fear  of  him. 


DOROTHY   FOX  79 

So  doubtless  Josiah  will  improve  now  he  is  his  own  mas- 
ter." 

Having  said  this,  Patience  put  her  arm  round  Dorothy 
and  drew  her  into  her  own  room,  thinking  that  the  girl 
might  tell  her  more  definitely  her  impressions  of  her 
future  husband.  But  Dorothy  changed  the  subject,  and 
talked  about  their  projected  excursions,  until  Nathaniel's 
step  was  heard  upon  the  stairs.  Then  she  bade  her 
mother  good-night,  and  when  she  was  alone  wondered 
if  she  should  ever  get  to  like  Josiah.  She  was  very  dis- 
appointed in  him,  certainly;  yet  there  seemed  something 
nice  about  him.  How  odd  it  seemed  to  think  that  he 
might  be  her  husband!  Then  she  fell  asleep,  and  her 
dreams  ran  on  weddings:  and  she,  dressed  like  Eliza- 
beth Cash,  stood  a  bride  with  Josiah  at  her  side,  only, 
instead  of  being  like  himself,  he  was  like  Charles  Ver- 
schoyle.  And  when  she  awoke  she  thought  what  stupid 
nonsense  comes  into  one's  head  in  dreams. 

The  whole  of  the  following  week  was  devoted  to  show- 
ing Josiah  the  beauties  of  the  neighbourhood.  Dorothy 
thoroughly  enjoyed  each  day.  She  felt  no  restraint  be- 
fore Josiah  now,  and  would  run  up  and  down  the  hills 
laughing  at  him ;  while  he,  panting  and  puffing,  seemed 
to  gain  each  summit  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  He  had 
never  yet  found  courage  enough  to  tell  Dorothy  of  his 
love  for  her,  which  hour  by  hour  he  felt  growing  stronger. 
He  had  made  two  or  three  attempts,  but  she  had  always 
misinterpreted  his  speech,  or  turned  it  into  fun;  and 
the  slightest  damper  effectually  put  a  stop  to  this  bash- 
ful wooing.  But  now  the  last  day  had  come,  for  he  was 
to  leave  them  the  next  morning.  So  Josiah  was  un- 
usually silent,  feeling  that  he  ought  to  say  something, 
and  that  Nathaniel  would  expect  it  of  him.  But  how  to 
say  it  while  she  was  asking  him  questions  and  telling 


8o  DOROTHY   FOX 

him  stories  about  things  so  entirely  removed  from  the 
subject  he  had  at  heart,  he  did  not  know.  Still,  this  was 
almost  his  last  chance;  for  after  their  return  from  the 
Castle  Hill  they  were  to  rejoin  Patience  and  Nathaniel. 
In  the  midst  of  Dorothy's  speculations,  then,  as  to  the 
different  appearance  the  place  presented  now  from  what 
it  did  in  the  olden  time,  when  it  had  been  the  constant 
scene  of  bloodshed  and  warfare — for  this  afternoon  all 
was  so  peaceful  and  calm  that  it  was  a  fitting  place  for 
merry  boys  and  girls  to  play  and  make  sweet  echo  with 
their  gleeful  voices — ^Josiah  suddenly  burst  out  with, — 

"  Dorothy,  I  do  love  you.  I  am  so  fond,  that  is — oh, 
Dorothy !  dost  thou  like  me  ?" 

Dorothy  looked  up  rather  startled  at  this  abrupt  diver- 
sion, but  none  of  that  confusion  or  bashfulness  which  a 
girl  feels  when  she  first  discovers  that  she  is  loved  by 
the  man  she  loves  either  stirred  her  nature  or  showed 
itself  in  her  manner  as  she  answered  with  assumed  grav- 
ity, hiding  a  smile  which  lurked  about  the  corners  of  her 
mouth, — 

"  Like  thee,  Josiah  ?  oh,  yes.  Are  we  not  told  to  love 
all  men  as  brothers?" 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  Dorothy  looked  up,  and  her 
eyes  meeting  his,  he  said,  his  face  instead  of  Dorothy's 
growing  scarlet, — 

"  But,  Dorothy,  thou  art  so  beautiful." 

"  Oh,  Josiah,  how  canst  thou !"  exclaimed  Dorothy  in 
a  tone  of  rebuke.  "  Remember,  '  Favour  is  deceitful, 
and  beauty  is  vain,'  and  we  ought  to  bear  our  testimony 
against  vanity  of  personal  looks.  I  wonder  at  thee;" 
and  Dorothy  glanced  with  a  greater  degree  of  compla- 
cency towards  Josiah  and  an  increased  desire  to  know 
what  he  had  to  say  to  her.  But  these  two  answers  had 
completely  overwhelmed  Josiah,  whose  small  stock  of 


DOROTHY   FOX  8i 

eloquence  immediately  forsook  him.  The  teaching  he 
had  so  long  received,  to  the  effect  that  whenever  he  was 
going  to  act  on  his  own  impulses  he  was  certain  to  make 
himself  ridiculous,  now  took  possession  of  him.  He  had 
only  stammered  and  stuttered  out  something  about  their 
two  fathers  having  intended  that  they  should  like  each 
other,  and  that  he  was  such  an  awkward  sort  of  fellow, 
when  they  met  Patience  and  Nathaniel.  The  missionary 
meeting  being  held  that  night  at  King's-heart,  no  other 
opportunity  presented  itself.  But  before  Josiah  and  Dor- 
othy said  good-night,  he  whispered  to  her, — 

"  Dorothy,  thou  wilt  try  and  like  me  ?" 

"  Try  ?"  she  said  laughingly ;  "  I  tell  thee  I  do  like 
thee."  She  ran  up-stairs,  but  turned  round  when  she 
reached  the  top,  and,  finding  that  Josiah  still  stood  look- 
ing after  her,  she  nodded  and  laughed  the  more,  think- 
ing, "  What  a  funny  face  he  has  when  he  looks  like  that," 
which  meant  that  a  despairing  expression  did  not  suit 
poor  Josiah's  commonplace  countenance.  Charles  Ver- 
schoyle  would  have  expressed  his  feelings  by  a  look  which 
would  have  touched  the  heart  of  the  coldest  woman; 
Josiah,  although  actuated  by  quite  as  fine  feelings,  could 
only  produce  laughter  in  the  woman  the  smallest  dole  of 
whose  love  he  was  longing  to  possess. 

Josiah  and  Nathaniel  had  some  conversation  that  even- 
ing respecting  Dorothy.  All  Josiah  could  say  was  that 
Dorothy  had  said  she  liked  him. 

"  Well,  I  think  that  is  as  much  as  thou  canst  expect 
at  once,"  replied  Nathaniel,  encouragingly.  "  Women 
are  always  rather  shy  about  their  feelings,  but  thou 
must  come  again,  and  then  we  shall  doubtless  be  able  to 
settle  everything.  Take  heart,  Josiah;  Dorothy  is  heir 
father's  child,  and  where  she  says  she  likes,  doubtless  she 
means  to  love." 

6 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LIKING   AND   LOVING 

The  next  morning  Josiah  left  King's-heart.  Patience 
and  Dorothy  stood  with  him  in  the  garden  waiting  for 
Nathaniel,  who  was  to  accompany  him  as  far  as  Plymouth. 

"  Now  thou  hast  found  thy  way  here,"  said  Patience, 
"  thou  must  come  again ;  we  shall  always  be  glad  to  see 
thee." 

Josiah  gave  her  a  grateful  look  for  this  welcome  invi- 
tation, 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  ready  to  come,"  he  replied.  "  I 
am  so  sorry  to  leave.  I  never  enjoyed  a  week  so  much  in 
all  my  life — thou  hast  been  so  good  to  me." 

And  then  he  turned  to  Dorothy ;  but  though  he  wished 
to  tell  her  how  sorry  he  was  to  leave  her,  and  how  he 
should  long  to  see  her  again,  he  found  it  was  impossible. 
Every  time  he  tried  to  speak,  his  heart  seemed  to  leap 
into  his  throat  and  choke  the  words.  No  such  inconveni- 
ence, however,  oppressed  Dorothy,  who  looked  smilingly 
into  his  face  as  she  said, — 

"  Oh,  yes ;  thou  must  come  in  the  summer,  and  then 
we  can  go  to  the  Mew  Stone  and  to  Cothele." 

But  Josiah  was  not  heeding  a  word  she  said.  He 
was  entirely  occupied  with  wondering  whether  he  might 
give  her  a  kiss  when  he  said  farewell.  She  was  in  a 
way  engaged  to  him;  at  least,  he  had  her  father's  con- 
sent, and  she  had  promised  to  try  and  care  for  him,  and 
he  thought  he  would;  but  at  that  moment  Nathaniel 
appeared,  calling  out  to  him, — 


DOROTHY   FOX  83 

"  Come,  Josiah,  we've  no  time  to  spare ;  say  farewell 
and  jump  in." 

He  thought  he  had  better  not  venture  anything  of  the 
sort;  so  he  shook  hands  with  Patience,  turned  again  to 
Dorothy,  changed  his  mind,  and  made  such  a  sudden 
dash  towards  her  that  she  only  seemed  to  get  a  knock  on 
her  nose.  Before  she  recovered  from  her  surprise,  Jo- 
siah was  seated  in  the  carriage,  too  excited,  and  his  face 
too  red,  to  see  Dorothy's  look  of  bewildered  astonish- 
ment. But  as  they  drove  off,  the  true  purport  of  this 
sudden  movement  dawned  upon  her,  and,  unchecked  by 
her  mother's  reproving  look,  she  burst  into  a  fit  of 
laughter. 

Patience  was  very  anxious  to  have  a  serious  conversa- 
tion with  her  daughter  on  the  subject  of  this  proposed 
engagement  with  Josiah.  She  liked  him,  and  believed 
he  had  a  great  deal  of  goodness  in  his  nature;  but  she 
saw  that  he  was  no  more  fitted  for  a  husband  for  Doro- 
thy than  Mark  or  Samuel,  their  shopmen.  Dorothy,  in 
spite  of  the  quiet  sober  way  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up,  possessed  a  vivid  imagination,  a  quick  sense 
of  the  ridiculous,  and  such  warm  feelings  as  were  cer- 
tain to  influence  her  life  and  mould  her  character.  There 
was  much  about  her  that  Josiah,  in  spite  of  all  the  love 
he  might  feel  for  her,  would  never  understand.  As  a 
child,  obstinacy  had  been  her  greatest  fault.  This  defect 
time  and  training  had  turned  into  firmness.  Seldom 
shown,  because  few  opportunities  presented  themselves 
for  its  display,  but  lying  dormant  in  the  young  girl's 
heart,  was  a  will  indomitable  as  her  father's,  a  tenacity 
of  purpose  which,  after  she  had  once  taken  a  resolu- 
tion, would  overcome  most  obstacles. 

Patience  had  thoroughly  studied  her  daughter's  char- 
acter, and  felt  convinced  that  to  allow  such  a  nature  to 


84  DOROTHY   FOX 

ignorantly  take  any  irretrievable  step  in  life  would  be  a 
failure  in  parental  duty.  She  therefore  determined  that 
after  speaking  to  Dorothy  she  would  tell  her  husband  of 
the  thoughts  which  troubled  her,  and  beg  him  to  let  their 
child  go  on  a  visit  to  her  sister,  and  thus  see  a  little  more 
of  society  than  their  limited  circle  afforded. 

The  morning  passed  without  Dorothy  making  any 
comment  on  Josiah  or  his  visit.  After  luncheon,  the 
mother  and  daughter  sat  down  together  with  their  work, 
each  one  silent  and  apparently  occupied  with  her  own 
thoughts.    At  last  Dorothy  said, — 

"  Mother,  wert  thou  ever  in  love  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Patience. 

"  Then  tell  me  what  it  is  like." 

Before  Patience  attempted  to  answer  Dorothy's  ques- 
tion, she  sat  for  some  minutes  communing  with  herself. 

"  Dorothy,"  she  said  at  length,  "  thou  hast  asked  a 
very  puzzling  question,  and  one  that  I  shall  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  answer  to  my  own  satisfaction,  for  love  takes  such 
various  shapes  in  various  natures  that  by  our  own  heart 
we  can  never  truly  judge  the  hearts  of  others.  But  first 
thou  must  be  open  with  me,  and  tell  me  what  makes 
thee  ask  this  question." 

Dorothy's  colour  came,  as  with  a  slight  hesitation  she 
answered, — 

"  I  think — that  is,  I  know — that  father  and  thou  have 
always  wished  me  to  like  Josiah  Crewdson;  and  now 
that  I  have  seen  him,  and  know  him  better,  I  do  like  him, 
and  think  him  very  kind  and  worthy ;  but  surely,  mother, 
something  more  than  liking  is  needed  to  make  people 
happy  ?" 

"  Indeed,  yes,  my  child,  and  that  is  what  I  wish  to  ex- 
plain to  thee.  Love  is  apart  from  all  this ;  it  is  the  charm 
which  makes  us  tender  to  failings,  not  blind  to  them. 


DOROTHY   FOX  85 

Every  merit  we  see  in  those  we  love  we  rejoice  over. 
Love  is  something  so  powerful,  deep,  and  binding,  that, 
though  it  is  impossible  to  define  it,  it  is  known  to  be  love 
the  moment  it  is  felt." 

"  But  does  all  this  come  at  once,  mother?" 

"  No ;  I  think  in  most  cases  it  does  not,  but  I  am 
speaking  of  what  in  some  degree  thou  should  experi- 
ence before  thy  consent  is  given  to  be  the  wife  of  any 
man.  Doubtless,  love  often  grows,  but  I  think  when  I 
was  thy  age  I  could  have  felt  tolerably  certain  who  might 
excite  such  feelings  within  me,  and  who  never  would." 

Dorothy's  face  crimsoned.  The  thought  flashed  across 
her,  supposing  Charles  Verschoyle  had  been  Josiah 
Crewdson,  would  she  have  needed  to  ask  these  questions  ? 
Not  that  Dorothy  was  one  atom  in  love  with  the  stranger 
who  had  come  among  them  so  unexpectedly,  and  whom 
she  most  probably  would  never  see  again,  but  he  satis- 
fied her  imagination,  and  Josiah  did  not. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  abruptly,  "  dost  thou  think  I  shall 
ever  love  Josiah  Crewdson?" 

"  That  is  hardly  a  fair  question,"  answered  Patience, 
not  wishing  to  give  a  straightforward  No,  which  would 
have  been  her  real  opinion.  "  I  see  nothing  about  Josiah 
to  prevent  a  woman  caring  for  him;  he  is  very  good- 
tempered  and  estimable,  and  his  little  awkwardnesses 
result  only  from  shyness;  he  would  very  soon  overcome 
them." 

"  But  I  do  wish  he  was  not  so  fat,  and  short,  and 
funny-looking." 

"  We  must  not  fall  into  the  habit  of  being  caught  by 
externals,"  said  Patience.  "  It  is  only  natural,  dear,  that 
thou  should  admire  good  looks ;  but  thou  wilt  never 
care  less,  I  trust,  for  people  who  have  not  that  gift.  I 
have  been  wanting  to  speak  to  thee  before  I  asked  thy 


86^  DOROTHY   FOX 

father's  permission  for  thee  to  go  on  a  visit  to  Grace. 
I  think  after  thou  hast  mixed  a  little  more  in  the  world 
thou  wilt  know  thyself  better." 

Dorothy  was  delighted  at  the  idea;  her  only  fear  was 
that  her  father  might  not  consent  to  her  going  to  a  sister 
whose  views  were  opposed  to  many  of  their  own.  But 
Patience  undertook  to  speak  to  him  first,  and  to  tell  him 
her  wishes,  and  the  reasons  she  had  for  believing  that 
they  would  be  acting  consistently  in  allowing  Dorothy 
to  accept  Grace's  invitation. 

That  night,  after  reading  was  over,  and  when  the 
husband  and  wife  were  left  alone.  Patience  commenced 
her  task,  which  at  the  outset  Nathaniel  listened  to  very 
impatiently.  Josiah,  he  said,  was  a  very  worthy  young 
man;  and  if  he  did  not  speak  every  time  he  got  an  op- 
portunity, he  never  spoke  when  he  might  better  have  held 
his  tongue.  For  his  part,  he  did  not  see  what  more  they 
could  want  for  their  daughter  than  an  excellent  husband 
with  a  good  fortune  and  a  flourishing  business. 

"  But,"  said  Patience,  "  that  is  all  very  well  if  she  cared 
for  the  man." 

"  Now  that  is  one  of  thy  woman's  fancies  and  argu- 
ments, Patience,"  replied  Nathaniel.  "  Leave  her  alone 
and  she  will  care  for  the  man.  What  other  man  can  she 
care  for  ?  Who  does  she  see  unless  it  is  Andrew  Dymond 
or  Jabez  Smith  ?  and  compared  with  them  Josiah  has  the 
graces  of  a  posture-master.  When  they  are  once  married 
they  will  get  on  very  well ;  as  I  have  often  told  thee,  love 
will  come.  Still,  I  have  no  wish  to  force  the  child  into  a 
marriage  which  is  distasteful  to  her;  though,  should  she 
decide  against  becoming  the  wife  of  Josiah  Crewdson,  she 
would  crush  one  of  the  wishes  nearest  my  heart." 

"  But  thou  would  sacrifice  thy  wish,  dear,  if  its  accom- 
plishment failed  to  give  Dorothy  happiness?" 


DOROTHY   FOX  87 

Nathaniel  gave  a  vexed  movement,  which  Patience  no-j 
ticed,  and  drawing  her  chair  nearer  to  her  husband,  she 
laid  her  hand  on  his,  saying,  "  Wilt  thou  listen  to  me  for 
a  few  minutes?" 

Nathaniel  nodded  assent. 

"  Well  then,  first,  be  assured  that  I  like  Josiah,  and  that 
I  should  be  perfectly  contented  to  see  Dorothy  his  wife, 
but  I  do  not  consider  he  is  calculated  to  make  her  happy ; 
and  she  has  had  so  little  opportunity  of  comparing  him 
with  others,  that  we  are  not  acting  up  to  our  duty  if  we 
allow  her  to  make  a  blind  choice.  There  might  come  a 
time  when  her  heart  would  reproach  us.  Though  Grace 
has  many  views  that  we  condemn,  yet  we  know  that  Doro- 
thy may  be  safely  trusted  to  her  care,  without  any  of  her 
principles  being  tampered  with.  Then  why  not  let  her 
go  on  a  visit  to  Grace,  with  permission  to  mix  in  their 
home  circle,  and  in  any  amusement  which  she  feels  we 
should  not  forbid?" 

"  And  when  she  returns  home,  how  then  ?*'  asked  Na- 
thaniel.   "  Will  she  not  be  discontented  ?" 

"  No,  I  can  answer  for  that ;  and  if  then  she  makes  no 
objection  to  Josiah,  be  assured,  Nathaniel,  I  shall  raise 
none." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  necessity,"  said  Nathaniel ;  "  never- 
theless, I  will  think  the  matter  over,  and  by  to-morrow, 
perhaps,  give  thee  my  decision." 

The  next  morning  he  asked  Dorothy  to  walk  round  the 
garden  with  him,  and  after  a  time  he  said, — 

"  Well,  Dorothy,  and  what  dost  thou  think  of  Josiah 
Crewdson  ?" 

"  I  like  him ;  he  is  exceedingly  good,  well-meaning, 
and  worthy." 

"  Very  excellent  qualities  in  a  husband,  Dorothy." 

"  Yes,  father — but,"  she  added,  as  the  colour  mounted 


88  DOROTHY   FOX 

to  her  cheeks,  "  I  should  want  to  know  him  much  better 
before  that." 

"  Certainly,  child ;  certainly.  Still,  thou  hast  no  posi- 
tive distaste  to  him  ?" 

"  No ;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  very  highly  of  him." 

"Yet  thy  mother  tells  me  thou  hast  a  wish  to  spend 
some  time  with  Grace?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dorothy,  "  but  I  do  not  know  that  that 
has  much  to  do  with  Josiah,  for  I  wished  it  quite  as  much 
before  I  saw  him." 

"  Then  thou  hast  my  permission  to  go,"  said  Nathaniel, 
greatly  relieved  by  this  last  remark  of  his  daughter.  "  I 
know  I  can  trust  thee  to  uphold  thy  principles  in  all  thy 
actions,  not  entering  into  anything  which  thy  conscience 
does  not  approve  as  consistent.  From  Fryston  thou  must 
go  on  to  see  Aunt  Abigail,  and  while  thou  art  so  near, 
what  dost  thou  say  to  accepting  this  invitation  from  the 
Crewdsons  ?" 

"  If  it  will  not  be  staying  away  too  long  from  thee  and 
mother,  I  should  like  it,"  said  Dorothy,  her  face  beaming 
with  pleasurable  anticipation. 

"  No,"  replied  her  father ;  "  we  must  learn  little  by 
little  to  try  and  do  without  thee ;  no  easy  task  when  the 
time  comes,"  he  added,  patting  her  head  lovingly. 

The  tears  sprang  to  the  girl's  eyes  as  she  exclaimed, — 

"  Oh,  father,  I  never  want  to  leave  thee !  I  do  not  care 
to  go  now.    Let  me  stay  at  home." 

"  No,  my  child.  I  am  very  glad,  as  things  seem  to  bq 
turning  out,  that  thou  art  going.  I  shall  write  to  Grace, 
and  tell  her  thy  mother  will  take  thee;  and,  as  I  have 
some  business  in  London  the  week  after  next,  I  will  go 
and  bring  her  home." 

During  the  next  few  days  nothing  was  thought  of  but 
the  preparations  necessary  for  their  journey.    At  last  th§ 


DOROTHY   FOX  89 

morning  for  starting  arrived,  and  Nathaniel  accompanied 
them  to  the  station.  Grace  was  to  meet  them  at  Pad- 
dington,  so  that  they  should  not  have  any  trouble ;  for  to 
Patience  a  journey  alone  was  an  undertaking. 

As  they  stood  waiting  for  the  train  to  come  up,  Na- 
thaniel could  not  help  noticing  the  attention  which  Doro- 
thy attracted.  She  was  looking  all  the  more  beautiful 
from  the  excitement,  which  made  her  eyes  sparkle  and 
her  colour  brighten  more  than  usual.  Her  fair  youthful- 
ness  seemed  to  strike  Nathaniel  afresh,  and  he  anxiously 
thought  to  himself  whether  he  was  right  in  letting  her 
go  from  him.  What  if  she  should  attract  the  attention  of 
some  vicious  worldling,  whose  fair  words  and  specious 
reasoning  might  entangle  her  young  fancy!  And  this 
fear  made  him  walk  to  the  old  house  opposite  the  Guild- 
hall with  a  more  measured  step  and  graver  face  than 
usual;  and  during  the  whole  of  the  day  he  continually 
said  to  himself,  "  I  fear  I  have  not  acted  wisely  in  letting 
her  go." 


CHAPTER   IX 

AT   DYNE   COURT 

"  Dyne,"  says  an  old  chronicler,  "  was  the  king's  de- 
mesne at  the  Conquest,  the  chief  house  whereof  adjoined 
the  abbey  (now  demolished),  and  in  times  past  hath  been 
notable  for  that  Hieretha,  canonized  a  saint,  was  here 
born;  esteemed  to  be  of  such  sanctity,  that  you  may 
read  of  many  miracles  ascribed  to  her  holiness,  in  his  book 
who  penned  her  life.  This  dwelling-place  of  Dyne  Court 
and  lands,  which  the  family  of  Montague  enjoyed,  from 
the  time  of  King  Henry  I.  even  unto  King  Henry  VH.'s 
days,  came  unto  the  Chichesters  by  the  marriage  of  Mar- 
garet, sole  daughter  of  the  house,  with  Geoffrey  Chiches- 
ter, who  took  the  name  of  Dynecourt,  by  which  honour- 
able name  this  family  hath  ever  since  been  known." 

Known  at  the  Court  of  the  virgin  queen  as  grave  and 
reliable  advisers ;  known  to  have  laid  down  life  and  lands 
for  the  martyr  Charles.;  known  at  his  son's  gay  revels 
as  roistering  gallants ;  known  as  the  friends  of  each  wan- 
derer of  the  house  of  Stuart;  known  as  men  who  were 
eyed  with  suspicion  by  the  house  of  Hanover,  until,  their 
fortune  gone,  and  their  lands  mortgaged,  they  died  out 
of  royal  memories — the  last  three  generations  of  Dyne- 
courts  had  been  known  only  to  those  who  dwelt  near  as 
men  who  had  nothing  to  bequeath  but  their  ancient  name 
and  ruined  house.  These  had  descended  some  few  years 
before  to  one  who,  in  his  turn,  was  known  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood as  that  Dynecourt  who,  sick  of  trying  to  stave 
off  the  evil  day,  had  summoned  up  courage  enough  to 
90 


DOROTHY   FOX  91 

look  into  his  condition,  and  had  sold  the  old  place  which 
he  could  not  keep  from  falling  into  ruin.  He  had  paid  off 
the  debts  still  clinging  round  it,  and  had  acknowledged 
himself  all  but  beggared,  and  forced  to  earn  his  own 
living. 

So  the  descendant  of  all  the  Dynecourts — the  friends 
of  kings  and  boon  companions  of  princes,  successful 
lovers  of  court  beauties,  and  husbands  of  titled  dames — 
now  toiled  in  the  law  courts  as  a  barrister;  while  Mr. 
Richard  Ford,  whose  father  had  been  a  porter,  and  he 
himself  an  errand-boy,  was  the  owner  of  the  fair  lands 
of  Dyne  Court.  When  Richard  Ford  was  yet  a  boy  in  a 
fustian  suit,  with  a  heavy  basket  on  his  arm,  he  never 
passed  Temple  Bar,  or  the  Tower,  or  any  old  building, 
without  being  compelled  to  stop  and  gaze  upon  it. 
Though  he  knew  not  why,  his  gazing  brought  him  pleas- 
ure; and  as  he  advanced  in  age  and  social  position,  he 
became  a  humble  collector  of  curiosities,  and  when  he 
grew  rich  he  found  he  possessed  an  antiquarian  taste. 
His  search  for  a  seat  had  therefore  been  guided  by  this 
dilettanteism :  the  house  must  have  a  history,  its  sur- 
roundings must  have  an  interest.  Directly  Dyne  Court 
was  in  the  market  he  went  down  to  it.  He  longed  to  call 
the  place  his  own  from  the  moment  he  saw  the  quaint 
village  with  the  old-fashioned  inn — "  The  Swan  with 
Three  Necks,"  stretching  its  sign  across  the  street.  His 
desire  was  only  increased  by  the  sight  of  "  the  fair  church 
and  its  stately  tower,"  by  the  rough  stone  bridge,  before 
the  building  of  which  "  the  breadth  and  roughness  of 
the  river  was  such  as  it  put  many  lives  in  jeopardy,  until 
the  pious  Dynecourt — Fulk  Dynecourt — was  admonished 
by  a  vision  to  set  on  the  foundation  of  a  bridge  near  a 
rock  which  he  should  find  rolled  from  the  higher  grounds 
upon  the  strand,  and  in  the  morning  he  found  a  rock 


92  DOROTHY   FOX 

there  fixed,  which  incited  him  to  set  forward  so  charita-" 
ble  a  work  and  build  the  bridge  now  to  be  seen."  And 
when,  after  crossing  the  bridge,  Mr.  Ford  stood  in  front 
of  the  large  iron  gates,  and  saw,  half-way  up  the  avenue, 
the  Gothic  arch  (trace  of  the  abbey  which  once  stood  on 
that  spot),  he  firmly  determined  that  if  money  could  do 
it,  he  would  be  master  of  Dyne  Court. 

And  now  he  was  master  of  it.  Ever  since  that  time, 
Dyne  had  been  noisy  with  labourers  and  tradesmen,  put- 
ting the  whole  place  in  thorough  repair,  but  without 
altering  its  exterior.  Mr.  Ford  himself  vigilantly  watched 
over  the  work.  The  interior  arrangements  of  furnishing 
and  decorating  he  committed  to  the  hands  of  "  a  great 
London  authority;"  and  at  the  present  time  all  who  had 
seen  it  declared  everything  to  be  perfect.  It  took  one  a 
long  time  to  get  conversant  with  all  the  traditions  and 
histories  of  "  the  Court  lands ;"  and  when  Mr.  Ford,  with 
natural  pride  of  heart,  showed  any  guests  over  them,  he 
played  a  very  secondary  part  to  Roger  Cross,  who  re- 
garded his  office  of  head  gardener  as  one  of  hereditary 
distinction,  it  having  been  (as  he  informed  them)  in  his 
family  for  two  hundred  years.  Roger  did  not  attempt  to 
conceal  his  feelings  at  the  bitter  change  which  had  over- 
taken the  fortunes  of  his  old  masters ;  and  after  pointing 
out  the  spot  where  the  duel  took  place,  in  which  Char- 
teray  Dynecourt  fell  by  his  friend  the  Earl  of  Hereford's 
hand,  or  the  gate  which  had  never  been  opened  since 
Maud  Dynecourt  shamed  the  family  by  taking  flight 
through  it  with  one  of  "  Oliver's  Lords,"  forsaking  her 
denounced  Cavalier  lover,  he  would  shrug  his  shoulders 
and  shake  his  head,  saying, — 

"  But  times  is  changed  with  us  since  then,  ladies  and 
gentlemen." 

Then  there  was  the  Well,  where  all  true  lovers  went  to 


DOROTHY   FOX  93, 

swear  their  constancy  and  pledge  each  other  in  the  water, 
which  secured  them  the  good-will  of  St.  Hieretha.  There 
was  many  an  avenue,  too,  where  belles  in  sacques  and 
hoops  and  farthingales — whose  names  are  still  famous — 
walked  and  coquetted  with  beaux  in  ruffles,  powdered 
wigs,  and  rapiers,  who  lived  and  died  for  the  upholding 
of  their  country  and  its  laws. 

Mr.  Richard  Ford  took  great  pains  to  keep  everything 
in  the  best  possible  order ;  and  so  tender  was  he  over  these 
footprints  of  days  gone  by,  that  it  grieved  him  to  see  even 
the  branch  of  an  old  tree  removed,  or  a  dead  shrub  re- 
placed; and  although  his  steps,  as  he  slowly  trod  the 
Dyne  Court  avenues,  did  not  fall  where  his  ancestors  had 
trodden  before  him,  he  reverenced  the  associations  of  a 
past  age,  and  regarded  much  of  his  newly  bought  prop- 
erty as  hallowed  ground. 

When,  therefore,  the  neighbouring  families,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  expressed  wish  of  Mr.  Dynecourt,  called 
on  the  newcomer,  they  decided  that,  as  he  could  never  be 
a  Dynecourt,  they  were  very  glad  to  see  him  what  he  was 
— simple,  unpretentious,  valuing  things  which  even  all  his 
money  could  not  buy  for  him,  and  naturally  possessed  of 
tastes  and  feelings  which,  though  he  was  guilty  of  an 
occasional  solecism,  or  a  faulty  H,  prevented  him  from 
being  called  vulgar.  His  great  wealth  had  introduced 
him  to  many  fashionable  circles,  and  in  them  he  was  the, 
more  welcome,  because  it  was  understood  that  he  was 
looking  out  for  some  fair  maiden  whom  he  might  make 
mistress  of  his  newly  gained  possessions.  Many  a  girl, 
much  younger  and  with  far  less  excuse  than  Audrey 
Verschoyle,  smiled  upon  him,  and  greeted  him  with  sweet 
words,  while  he  talked  to  them  after  a  very  staid  fatherly 
fashion,  and  was  so  very  little  affected,  apparently,  by 
their  solicitude,  that  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that 


^  DOROTHY   FOX 

Lady  Laura  should  regard  with  triumph  the  marked  at- 
tention which,  from  their  first  introduction,  he  had  be- 
stowed upon  her  daughter. 

The  handsome  carriage  was  sent  to  the  station  for  the 
Verschoyles,  and  they  drove  up  to  the  house  to  find  the 
master  standing  at  the  entrance.  He  gave  Audrey  a  most 
cordial  welcome,  and  the  mother's  heart  swelled  with 
pride  as  she  thought  how  well  her  child  would  fill  the 
position  to  which  she  was  evidently  destined. 

From  the  moment  they  entered  the  house,  Mr.  Ford^ 
by  his  manner,  showed  that  Audrey  was  the  guest  he  most 
delighted  to  honour.  When  he  displayed  the  beauties  oi 
the  house,  he  made  her  his  especial  charge,  seeming  well 
satisfied  when  she  expressed  pleasure;  and  he  made  a 
note  of  any  alteration  she  suggested. 

The  party  staying  in  the  house  was  small,  and  con- 
sisted of  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jekyl  Finch,  together  with  their 
daughter,  and  a  cousin  to  whom  she  was  engaged ;  Gen- 
eral Trefusis,  an  old  Indian  officer,  and  his  sister;  and 
Mrs,  Winterton  and  her  niece.  Miss  Selina  Bingham. 
They  had  all  met  before,  and  the  sayings  and  doings  of 
their  mutual  acquaintances  possessed  for  each  a  special 
interest.  The  arrival  of  the  Verschoyles  was  hailed  with 
general  satisfaction;  Lady  Laura  was  always  so  agree- 
able, Miss  Verschoyle  so  clever,  and  the  son  was  quite  a 
hero,  and  so  good-looking.  Mr.  Ford  expressed  him- 
self delighted  to  see  Captain  Verschoyle,  and  added,  "  We 
must  invite  some  nice  young  lady  to  look  after  him." 
Quick-sighted  Lady  Laura  decided  at  once  that  this  re- 
mark was  intended  to  convey  that  Miss  Bingham  was 
reserved  for  somebody  else.  But  who  could  it  be?  Per- 
haps the  old  man  himself  might  be  coveting  her  money — 
those  rich  people  were  sometimes  so  grasping.  So  she  at 
once  answered, — 


DOROTHY   FOX  95. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ford,  you  are  too  thoughtful ;  but  my 
son's  health  being  still  very  delicate,  I  fear  he  has  the 
bad  taste  to  prefer  the  attentions  of  his  mother  to  those 
of  the  most  charming  young  lady  in  England  where  any 
reciprocity  of  interest  would  be  expected.  No,  no,  you 
must  leave  my  son  to  me." 

Lady  Laura  took  great  pains  to  repeat  this  offer  of 
Mr.  Ford's  to  the  guests  individually,  varying  the  re- 
marks according  to  the  condition  of  the  hearer.  She  told 
Miss  Bingham  that  her  son  never  paid  any  girl  the 
slightest  attention  beyond  common  politeness. 

"  He  declares  he  shall  never  fall  in  love  with  any  one ; 
but  you  know,  my  dear,  he's  been  spoilt — that's  the  truth 
of  the  matter.  Men  never  care  for  women  who  wear  their 
hearts  upon  their  sleeve." 

Whereupon  Captain  Verschoyle's  naturally  winning 
manner  was  regarded  by  the  heiress  as  a  personal  com- 
pliment, and  every  courtesy  he  showed  her  seemed  of 
double  value  when  it  came  from  a  man  unaccustomed  to 
be  generally  gracious.  The  days  passed  very  idly  and 
pleasantly.  They  chatted  and  gossipped  together,  they 
lingered  over  breakfasts  and  luncheons,  they  strolled  in 
couples  over  the  grounds,  Audrey  being  always  the  com- 
panion of  their  host,  who  took  sedate  pleasure  in  showing 
his  knowledge  of  Roman  antiquities,  and  the  history  of 
abbeys  and  monasteries.  She,  in  her  turn,  listened  com- 
placently, and  would  intersperse  his  rather  heavy  facts 
with  old  traditions,  legends,  and  anecdotes  of  the  places 
with  which  these  archaic  memories  were  connected. 
These  talks  were  not  altogether  uncongenial,  and  Audrey 
remembered  she  had  often  felt  far  more  bored' by  the  con- 
versation of  other  eligible  but  younger  partis  than  she 
did  after  an  hour's  tcte-&-tete  with  Mr.  Richard  Ford. 
Though  she  had  not  been  at  Dyne  Court  a  week,  the  ser- 


96  DOROTHY   FOX 

vants  looked  upon  her  as  their  probable  future  mistress, 
and  most  eyes  followed,  with  curious  gaze,  the  couple  as 
they  walked  together — Audrey's  tall,  beautiful  figure 
gaining  height  from  her  sweeping  dress,  and  her  dark 
hair  arranged  so  as  to  display  to  the  best  advantage  her 
well-formed  head,  which  she  had  to  bend  when  she  ad- 
dressed her  companion. 

At  the  close  of  one  of  these  long  summer  days,  Audrey 
had  been  singing  for  the  old  man.  She  had  never 
reckoned  singing  amongst  her  accomplishments ;  and  if 
asked  to  sing  would  say  that  she  could  not.  But  Mr.  Ford 
thought  it  the  sweetest  voice  he  had  ever  heard,  and  was 
wonderfully  stirred  by  the  few  well-chosen  words  (for 
she  always  looked  to  the  words  more  than  the  music), 
rather  spoken  than  sung.  They  were  sitting  in  the  gloam- 
ing, apart  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  were  amusing 
themselves  independently  of  the  singer.  Miss  Verschoyle 
did  not  seek  to  disguise  that  she  was  solely  intent  on 
giving  pleasure  to  the  master  of  the  house.  Mr.  Ford 
had  asked  her  for  old-fashioned  songs,  and  she  had  given 
him  several;  her  companion  hardly  thanking  her  irt 
words,  yet  quietly  showing  her  how  he  enjoyed  the  treat. 
At  length,  without  a  thought,  she  commenced  to  sing 
"  Auld  Robin  Gray."       • 

"Such  a  mistake!"  Lady  Laura  afterwards  observed; 
but  at  the  time  she  only  said,  immediately  it  was  con- 
cluded, "  My  dear  Audrey,  pray  do  not  sing  any  more 
of  those  doleful  ditties."  But  Audrey  did  not  reply.  She 
rose  and  shut  the  piano  softly,  while  Mr.  Ford  said,  husk- 
ily, "  Thank  you,  my  dear,  it  is  twenty  3^ears  since  last 
I  heard  that  song."  Then  she  said  to  him,  "  Will  you 
walk  round  the  terrace  with  me?  I  want  to  see  who 
the  man  was  standing  outside  the  window  listening  to 
me." 


DOROTHY   FOX  97 

They  walked  round,  but  could  see  no  one. 

"  It  was  your  fancy,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Ford. 

"  No,  it  was  not,"  repHed  Audrey. 

"  Then,  perhaps,  it  was  one  of  the  servants." 

Audrey  did  not  feel  inclined  to  say  that  she  knew  it 
was  not  a  servant,  for  it  little  mattered.  So  they  spoke 
of  other  things,  and  joined  General  Trefusis,  Miss  Bing- 
ham, and  Captain  Verschoyle  in  a  short  stroll.  As  they 
were  entering  the  house  again  a  servant  came  up  and 
said,  "  Mr.  Dynecourt  has  arrived,  sir." 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  asked  Mr.  Ford.  "  Will  you  excuse 
pie.  Miss  Verschoyle  ?"  and  he  hurried  away. 

Captain  Verschoyle  followed  his  sister  into  her  room 
that  evening,  with  the  evident  intention,  as  she  said,  of 
having  a  gossip.  So  she  might  just  as  well  resign  herself 
and  dismiss  Marshall  at  the  onset,  "  to  *  improve  the 
shining  hours,'  meaning  the  moonlight,  with  the  chief 
butler,  or  baker,  or  whoever  reigns  at  present  in  your 
fickle  bosom." 

"  The  butler.  Miss  Audrey !  Well,  I  never !  what  will 
you  make  me  out  next  ?    Why,  he's  nearly  seventy !" 

"  And  a  very  suitable  age  for  you,"  replied  her  mis- 
tress, laughing. 

"  No  such  thing,  Marshall,"  exclaimed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle ;  "  you  are  a  great  deal  too  good-looking  to  be- 
come a  nurse  yet;  besides,  what  would  that  Devonshire 
landlady's  sailor  son  say  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Marshall ;  "  you  know  every- 
body doesn't  care  about  setting  the  Prayer-book  com- 
mandment— that  you  mustn't  marry  your  grandfather — 
at  defiance,"  and  Marshall  demurely  bade  them  "  Good- 
night." 

"  That  was  a  sly  hit  at  you,  Audrey." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so ;   Marshall  has  given  me  several 

7 


9S  DOROTHY   FOX 

hints  as  to  the  interest  shown  in  the  servants'  hall  re- 
garding their  master's  wooing.  By  the  way,  what  do  you 
think  of  your  brother-in-law  elect  ?" 

"  Brother-in-law  elect !"  echoed  Captain  Verschoyle ; 
"  why,  you  have  not  accepted  him,  have  you  ?" 

"  No ;  because  he  has  not  yet  done  me  the  honour  to 
offer  me  his  hand  and — shall  we  say  ? — heart ;  but,  when 
that  glory  is  laid  at  my  feet,  I  intend  to  invest  myself  as 
quickly  as  possible  with  all  the  insignia  of  office  which 
may  belong  to  the  dignity  of  Mrs.  Richard  Ford." 

"  Be  serious,  Audrey.  Do  you  think  the  man  means  to 
ask  you  to  be  his  wife  ?" 

"  No ;  but  the  master  of  Dyne  Court  intends  asking  me 
to  be  the  mistress,  and  I  intend  accepting.  Don't  look  so 
grave,  Charlie;  I  have  tried  for  matrimonial  prizes  far 
more  distasteful  than  this  man  is  to  me,  notwithstanding 
that  he  will  call  me  '  Ordrey'  and  sometimes  hope  I  am 
"appy."' 

"  But  surely  you  must  shrink  from  marrying  him. 
Mark  you,  I  am  not  speaking  against  the  man,  for  I  feel 
sure  he  is  good  at  heart,  and  there  is  much  to  admire  in 
the  good  sense  which  makes  him  above  being  ashamed 
that  he  has  risen  in  life.  But,  Audrey,  his  age,  his  ap- 
pearance— oh!  it  seems  such  a  dreadful  sacrifice — and 
for  what  ?" 

"  For  what  ?"  she  answered ;  "  for  all  I  hold  dear.  I 
dream  of  the  entertainments  I  shall  give,  the  people  I 
shall  gather  round  me  here,  the  dress,  the  jewels,  the 
carriages,  the  thousand  and  one  delicious  extravagances 
I  may  commit  when  I  have  money  at  my  command.  We 
don't  look  at  the  value  of  the  coin,  we  esteem  it  for  what 
it  will  bring  us.  So  with  Mr.  Ford,  if  I  regarded  him 
standing  on  his  own  personal  merits,  I  should  shudder 
to  be  obliged  to  spend  my  life  with  an  elderly  man  who 


DOROTHY   FOX  99 

has  long  passed  all  his  romance,  and  in  the  days  when  he 
did  possess  it  would  have  perhaps  bestowed  it  upon  a — 
cook  or  serving-maid.  No,  no,  Mr.  Richard  Ford  indi- 
vidually is  ignored,  and  is  only  regarded  by  me  as  the 
medium  by  which  I  shall  attain  all  I  have  ever  desired 
and  longed  for." 

"  But,  Audrey,  don't  tell  me  your  heart  has  never  pic- 
tured any  other  life  than  one  of  endless  frivolity  and  com- 
pany ?" 

"  Marry  for  love !"  she  said,  scornfully ;  "  love  is  very 
well  in  a  novel  on  a  rainy  day,  but  how  does  it  stand  in 
reality?" 

"  Audrey,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  give  up  all  idea 
of  this  marriage;  you  may  yet  meet  with  some  one  to 
inspire  a  different  feeling," 

"  Never,  now :  my  heart  is  choked  up  with  other  gods ; 
love  could  not  take  root  in  such  a  stony  soil ;  the  first  little 
storm  would  tear  it  up  to  wither  and  die.  Moreover,  I 
must  say  this  is  rather  cool  of  you  to  take  me  to  task  for 
my  adoration  of  Mammon,  when  you  are  at  this  very 
moment  paying  homage  at  the  same  shrine.  Now,  then, 
it  is  my  turn  to  cross-question.  Do  you  really  intend  pro- 
posing to  Miss  Bingham?" 

"  That  is  a  question  I  have  asked  myself  several  times, 
and  hitherto  I  have  been  unable  to  give  any  answer.  She 
is  a  very  nice  girl,  and  I  might  become  very  fond  of  her, 
but  I  should  never  be  in  love  with  her." 

"  I  think  she  would  not  say  No  to  being  Mrs.  Ver- 
schoyle," said  Audrey. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  sure  of  that,"  replied  her  brother,  "  but 
this  I  am  sure  of,  that  she  will  not  break  her  heart  if  she 
is  not  asked,  for  with  all  her  timid  yea-nayishness,  she 
has  a  very  decided  preference  for  herself,  and  whoever 
she  marries  will  never  be  anything  but  prince  consort  in 


loo  DOROTHY   FOX 

her  heart.  Yet  a  man  might  do  worse,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  love  her  for  herself,  for  she  is 
rather  pretty  and  tolerably  accomplished." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Audrey,  "  that  is  her  fault ;  you 
feel  that  you  must  always  qualify  everything  you  say  of 
her,  and  consequently  she  has  no  positive  character." 

"  Very  unlike  my  sister  there,"  laughed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle. 

"  Oh !  I  know  I  like  to  have  my  own  way,  and  I  dare- 
say if  I  had  fallen  in  love  it  would  have  been  with  some 
weak,  amiable  creature,  who  deferred  to  me  in  all  things, 
and  was  entirely  guided  by  my  opinion.  And  yet  I  detest 
men  of  that  kind." 

"  Ah  I"  said  her  brother ;  "  my  ideal  is  a  woman  who 
has  an  opinion,  and  yet  is  ready  to  follow  out  that  of  the 
man  she  loves;  a  woman  like  our  sweet  Quaker  friend, 
who  freely  gave  her  ideas,  and  then  quietly  added,  *  But 
my  husband's  wish  is  different ;'  and  love  had  made  that 
law  so  strong  that  it  never  entered  her  mind  to  resist  it. 
Do  you  know,  I  often  think  of  her." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Audrey.  "  That  afternoon  seemed  to 
open  up  a  fresh  vista  of  life  to  me;  the  spirit  of  peace 
took  possession  of  me  then.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
scene — the  mother  and  daughter — I  can  recall  the  very 
sound  of  their  voices.  But  there  goes  twelve  o'clock; 
my  dear  Charlie,  be  off,  or  I  shall  look  like  a  wraith  to- 
morrow."        -"- 

Captain  Verschoyle  rose  to  bid  her  good-night,  say- 
ing,— 

"  You  will  think  over  what  we  have  been  talking  about  ? 
Don't  marry  this  man  if  you  feel  you  may  some  day 
repent  it.    Money  cannot  bring  everything,  Audrey." 

She  laughingly  shook  her  head  in  dissent,  and  without 
replying  to  his  question,  said, — 


DOROTHY   FOX  loi 

"  Oh !  by  the  way,  did  you  hear  who  Mr.  Dynecourt 
is?" 

"  No,"  answered  her  brother.    "  What  about  him  ?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  him,  only  a  servant  told  Mr. 
Ford  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  had  arrived,  and  he  hurried  off 
to  see  him,  and  I  left  the  drawing-room  before  he  re- 
turned." 

"  Dynecourt  ?"  said  Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  that  must 
be  one  of  the  family  to  whom  the  place  belonged." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  I  never  heard  anything  but  that  it  had 
belonged  to  a  very  old  family  who  had  lost  their  money. 
Mr.  Ford  was  once  about  to  give  me  their  history,  but 
something  prevented  him.  Now,  if  he  should  prove 
young,  and  good-looking,  and  a  rival  to  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle ?  But  don't  despair ;  should  the  worst  come,  call 
me  to  the  rescue,  and  I'll  measure  swords  with  the  inter- 
loper, and  as  it  would  be  perhaps  my  last  passage  of  arms^j 
it  should  be  successful,  and  insure  victory." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  her  brother,  "  as  I  do  not  yet  know 
whether  I  wish  to  be  the  victor  I  shall  not  engage  your 
services.  Good-night.  Think  over  what  we  have  been 
talking  about." 

"  Yes,  I  promise." 

And  she  kept  her  promise.  She  said  to  herself  that  she 
would  look  at  it  on  every  side,  and  on  every  side  the  ad- 
vantage of  marrying  Mr.  Ford  showed  itself.  She  felt 
certain  that,  with  the  help  of  some  of  her  relations,  who 
held  a  good  place  in  the  fashionable  world,  she  could  in- 
troduce her  husband  into  it,  and  once  there  she  knew  she 
should  need  no  help  to  keep  her  place.  No  one  under- 
stood expending  a  large  income  better  than  Audrey ;  and 
her  reflections  were  often  forgotten  in  the  pictures  her 
fancy  presented,  of  some  wonderful  fete  or  entertainment, 
where  she  would  display  her  taste,  and  make  herself  the 


I02  DOROTHY   FOX 

envy  of  people  who  had  often  offended  her  by  their  in- 
difference or  their  patronage.  Yes,  she  would  accept  Mr. 
Ford  gladly ;  she  felt  almost  certain  he  would  propose  to 
her,  though  not  quite  so  soon  as  Charlie  imagined.  "  I 
daresay  he  will  defer  it  until  almost  the  last  day,  which 
would  be  just  what  I  should  like ;  and  then  I  shall  settle 
the  matter,  go  to  town,  and  prepare  my  trousseau,  and  we 
need  not  meet  again  until  a  day  or  two  before  the — ," 
here  she  sat  down  pausing  before  the  word — "  wedding." 
Her  hands  lay  idly  in  her  lap,  her  wide-open  eyes  had 
that  look  which  tells  of  blindness  to  external  objects ;  a 
slight  trembling  of  the  mouth  now  and  then  showed  that 
she  was  thinking  deeply,  seriously.  The  clock  striking 
one  broke  in  on  her  reverie,  and  she  gave  a  short,  quick 
sigh  as  the  words  seemed  to  rise  to  her  lips,  her  tongue 
almost  giving  sound  to  the  thought — "  Whatever  comes, 
I  trust  I  shall  never  forget  that  my  duty  is  to  be  very 
kind  to  the  old  man." 

And  Audrey  was  soon  in  dreamland;  and  entertain- 
ments, and  balls,  and  weddings,  and  funerals  all  mixed 
themselves  together  in  her  mind,  until  Marshall's  voice 
awoke  her,  telling  her  that  it  was  past  eight  o'clock,  and 
that  there  was  a  fresh  visitor  to  dress  for  that  morning. 


CHAPTER  X 

AT   CROSS-PURPOSES 

Miss  Verschoyle  did  not  make  her  appearance  in  the 
breakfast-room  next  morning  until  nearly  ten  o'clock. 
Most  of  the  party  had  already  left,  and  the  remainder 
were  about  to  follow  their  example.  M*-.  Ford  was  still 
sitting  at  the  table,  in  order,  as  it  seemed,  to  converse  with 
his  newly  arrived  guest,  who  had  only  just  commenced 
breakfast.  As  Audrey  entered  the  room,  Mr.  Ford  ad- 
vanced to  meet  her,  and  after  the  usual  salutations,  led 
her  to  the  table,  saying, — 

"  Miss  Verschoyle,  you  must  allow  me  to  introduce 
Mr.  Dynecourt  to  you,  a  gentleman  to  whom  I  feel  very 
grateful  for  giving  me  the  pleasure  of  his  company  for  a 
short  time." 

Good  Richard  Ford  uttered  these  words  nervously, 
fearing  that  his  speech  might  not  convey  so  much  honour 
as  he  wished  it  to  do.  Gladly  would  he  have  sunk  into 
temporary  insignificance,  if  Mr.  Dynecourt  would  have 
consented  to  consider  that  he  was  still  master  in  his  old 
home.  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  had  shrunk  from  paying  this 
visit ;  but  his  voluntary  banishment  had  so  visibly  pained 
the  new  owner,  that  he  determined,  in  gratitude  for  the 
kindness  and  consideration  Mr.  Ford  had  showa  him,  to 
overcome  this  feeling.  It  was  a  trial  to  go  as  guest  where 
he  had  lived  as  master,  but  it  was  only  one  of  many,  and 
he  began  to  take  rather  a  pride  in  conquering  his  feelings, 
and  forgetting  that  he  had  ever  been  anything  but  what 

103 


I04  DOROTHY   FOX 

he  now  was — Geoffrey  Dynecourt,  barrister  of  the  Inner 
Temple. 

Miss  Verschoyle  acknowledged  the  pleasure  it  gave  her 
to  meet  Mr.  Dynecourt,  who  rose,  bowed,  and  gave  her  a 
chair.  Then  as  both  looked  up  to  take  a  closer  inspec- 
tion of  each  other,  their  eyes  met,  and  Audrey  knew  that 
it  was  he  who  had  stood  listening  to  her  while  singing. 

"  I  am  fortunate,"  she  said,  "  in  finding  a  companion, 
for  generally  at  breakfast  I  have  the  full  benefit  of  my 
own  society." 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  Dynecourt,  "  do  you  so  dislike 
early  rising?" 

"  Oh !  I  detest  it ;  the  family  morning  meal,  when  all 
are  assembled  at  eight  or  nine  o'clock,  is  a  remnant  of  bar- 
barism, invented  doubtless  to  promote  and  keep  alive  dis- 
cord.   Who  could  feel  amiable  at  that  hour  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  laughing ; 
"  I  was  up  at  six  this  morning,  and  I  felt  quite  as  fond 
of  mankind  then  as  I  do  now." 

"  Oh !  but  not  of  womankind,"  put  in  Mr.  Ford ;  "  for 
then,  my  dear  sir,  you  had  not  seen  Miss  Verschoyle." 

"  Mr.  Ford  is  so  charmingly  old-fashioned,"  said 
Audrey,  smiling,  "  that  he  has  not  forgotten  that  the 
most  effectual  way  of  making  a  woman  good-tempered  is 
to  pay  her  a  compliment." 

"  Do  you  really  think,  Miss  Verschoyle,"  asked  Mr. 
Dynecourt,  "  that  ladies  set  so  much  value  on  flattery  or 
compliments  ?" 

"  Speaking  from  what  I  hear  most  people  say,  I  should 
most  certainly  say  no;  speaking  from  personal  experi- 
ence, most  decidedly  yes.  I  delight  in  a  compliment,  and 
can  comfortably  digest  a  very  tolerable  quantity  of  whole- 
some flattery.  I  often  smile,  as  you  are  doing  now,  at 
this  weakness,  but  '  it  is  our  nature  to,'  and  we  cannot 


DOROTHY   FOX  105 

help  feeling  very  kindly  towards  a  man  who  delicately 
shows  us  our  superiority.    But  of  course  it  must  be  man- 
aged skilfully.    When  it  is  so,  I  may  know  quite  well  that , 
it  is  not  true ;  yet  I  like  to  hear  it,  and  in  a  way  believe  it." 

Mr.  Dynecourt  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"  Ah !"  she  said,  "  I  know  you  are  pitying  my  weak- 
ness." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  was  thinking  what  an  unusual  amount 
of  truthfulness  you  have." 

"  Are  you  trying  my  powers  of  credulity  ?"  she  asked, 
somewhat  scornfully ;  "  because  you  have  already  suc- 
ceeded in  overstepping  the  boundary,  and  stumbled  on  a 
piece  of  flattery  which  I  cannot  swallow." 

"  Have  I  ?"  he  answered ;  "  it  was  quite  unintentional. 
I  never  pay  compliments,  that  is  not  my  forte." 

At  this  point  Miss  Bingham  came  into  the  room,  saying 
that  they  had  decided  upon  a  charming  plan.  They  were 
to  ramble  through  the  Abbey-Woods,  taking  luncheon 
with  them  for  the  "  Abbot's  Rest,"  then  they  would  return 
by  "  The  Dame's  Farm,"  get  some  tea  there,  and  drive 
back  again  by  dinner-time. 

"  That  will  be  charming,"  exclaimed  Audrey,  turning 
to  Mr.  Dynecourt. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you  have  been  happy  in  your 
arrangements." 

Miss  Bingham  hastened  off  to  enter  more  fully  into  an 
account  of  what  was  to  be  done.  Audrey  and  Mr.  Dyne- 
court seated  themselves  on  one  of  the  seats  on  the  terrace, 
and  carried  on  an  animated  conversation,  until  Marshall 
came  from  Lady  Laura,  to  say  that  she  wished  to  speak 
to  Miss  Verschoyle. 

Audrey  obeyed  the  summons,  deciding  that  she  would 
give  herself  a  treat  that  day,  and  devote  some  portion  of 
her  company  to  Mr.  Dynecourt.     "  I  fancy  I  shall  like 


io6  DOROTHY   FOX 

him,"  she  thought,  "  or  else  I  shall  dislike  him,  for  he  is 
one  of  those  people  one  must  have  decided  opinions  about ; 
and  mine  are,  as  yet,  unformed.  I  think  he  is  good-look-* 
mg. 

"  Marshall,  don't  you  think  that  gentleman  I  was  sit- 
ting with — Mr.  Dynecourt,  I  mean — is  very  handsome?" 

"  Handsome,  Miss  Audrey  ?  la !  no ;  he  looks  to  me  all 
one  colour — eyes,  skin,  and  hair;  and  he  has  such  a: 
melancholy,  haughty  sort  of  look,  just  like  the  picture  of 
that  Lord  Howard  at  Spencer  House,  as  if  he  was  saying, 
*  I'm  very  miserable,  but  I  defy  you  to  pity  me.'  " 

"  Well,  really,  he  has  something  Vandykeish  about 
him,"  returned  Miss  Verschoyle.  "  I  expect  it  is  that 
short  pointed  brown  beard  which  gives  the  expression ; 
but  I  think  him  very  good-looking,  and  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  shall  not  end  by  calling  him  very  handsome." 

"  You  don't  mean  it,  Miss  Audrey ;  though  I  must  say 
you  have  a  very  peculiar  taste.  You  always  thought  that 
Adam  Gregor  was  good-looking — a  poor  woebegone  fel- 
low. Everybody  to  their  liking,  of  course,  but  give  me  a 
nice  fresh  colour,  with  good  curly  hair  and  whiskers,  and 
eyes  like  sloes,  and  anybody  may  have  the  peaky-faced, 
yellow-haired  gentlemen  for  me." 

"  What !  are  you  still  faithful  to  that  Jack-my-Hearty 
you  met  at  Plymouth  ?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  who  you  mean.  Miss  Audrey, 
but  I  suppose  if  I  am  going  to  lose  my  young  lady,  it's 
quite  time  that  I  was  faithful  to  somebody,  and  had  got 
somebody  to  be  faithful  to  me." 

"  Very  true,  Marshall ;  but  I  am  not  off  your  hands 
yet;  and  you  and  I  are  too  old  stagers  to  count  our 
chickens  before  they  are  hatched." 

"  Oh !  but,  miss,  it's  all  secure  this  time ;  if  you  will 
say  *  yes,'  there'll  be  nobody  to  gainsay  you.    I  wish  I  was 


DOROTHY   FOX  107 

as  sure  of  being  comfortably  settled  as  I  am  that  before 
this  time  next  year  I  shall  see  you  mistress  here." 

Miss  Verschoyle  laughed.  "  And  if  so,"  she  said,  "  get 
your  sailor  friend  to  leave  off  toiling  on  the  sea,  and  be- 
come a  tiller  of  the  ground,  and  we'll  find  him  a  sinecure 
situation.    Did  you  say  mamma  was  in  my  room  ?" 

"  Yes,  miss." 

Audrey  entered,  and  found  Lady  Laura  engaged  in 
pulling  out  and  crimping  up  the  frills  and  lace  attached 
to  the  costume  which  she  and  Marshall  had  agreed  that 
Audrey  should  wear. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  wear  that  dress,  mamma,"  she  ex- 
claimed ;    "  I  shall  wear  my  new  blue  one." 

"  Why  spoil  that,  dear  ?  You  look  very  well  in  this  one, 
and  Mr.  Ford,  I  see,  is  not  an  impressionable  man  as  re- 
gards dress." 

Audrey  did  not  answer  Lady  Laura's  remark.  She  only 
said, — 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  wear  the  blue." 

Now,  under  ordinary  circumstances  this  would  have 
been  a  declaration  of  war  in  words,  which  would  have 
raged  sharply  until  Audrey  had  given  in  and  conceded 
to  her  mother's  wishes;  but  just  now  Lady  Laura  was 
wonderfully  yielding  and  amiable  towards  her  daughter. 
So  she  told  Marshall  to  put  away  the  refused  dress  care- 
fully, and  left  her  daughter  under  the  maid's  hands.  Miss 
Verschoyle  desired  that  her  hair  might  be  rearranged  after 
a  fashion  she  considered  particularly  becoming.  Alto- 
gether she  took  such  an  interest  in  her  appearance,  that 
Marshall  felt  quite  certain  her  mistress  had  something 
"  fresh  in  her  head."  When  her  toilette  was  finished,  and 
Audrey  went  into  her  mother's  room  for  inspection,  Lady 
Laura  exclaimed, — 

"  You  were  quite  right,  my  dear,  to  decide  upon  the 


io8  DOROTHY   FOX 

blue.  I  never  saw  you  looking  better,  Charles,  love, 
come  and  congratulate  your  sister  on  her  appearance." 

Captain  Verschoyle,  who  had  been  sitting  with  Lady 
Laura,  turned  round,  and  lifting  up  his  eyebrows  to  evince 
his  astonishment,  asked  who  it  was  all  for. 

"  Who  is  it  for  ?"  repeated  Lady  Laura ;  "  really, 
Charles !" 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  it  for?"  said  Captain  Verschoyle. 

"  For  your  especial  benefit,  sir,"  replied  Audrey,  with 
a  significant  nod  as  she  went  out  of  the  room. 

"  Dear  girl,  how  I  shall  miss  her !"  said  Lady  Laura, 
pathetically.  "  I  am  sure  no  disinterestedness  can  equal 
that  of  a  mother  in  giving  up  her  children."  Then,  seeing 
Marshall  had  gone,  she  added,  confidentially,  "  My  idea 
is,  that  Audrey  has  determined  that  the  old  gentleman 
shall  propose  to-day;  and  a  very  excellent  thought  it  is, 
for  they  could  not  have  a  more  fitting  opportunity." 

"  Oh,  mother !  the  idea  of  her  sacrificing  herself  in  this 
way  is  hateful  to  me." 

"  Now,  Charles,  I  beg — I  insist — that  you  do  not  men- 
tion such  a  thing  to  Audrey ;  not  that  I  think  my  daugh- 
ter would  listen  to  such  an  absurd  word  as  sacrifice,  in  the 
case  of  a  girl  who  has  not  a  penny  marrying  a  man  with 
£30,000  a  year." 

"  Come,  mother,  don't  forget  you  were  young  yourself," 
answered  her  son. 

"  Yes,  young  and  foolish,  Charles.  Your  dear  father 
was  a  charming  man,  and  I  am  sure  I  idolized  him ;  but 
he  ought  never  to  have  married  me — I  have  said  so  dozens 
of  times  to  him,  and  he  always  agreed  with  me.  I  love 
my  children  too  well  ever  to  expose  them  to  such  a  life  of 
struggle  to  keep  up  appearances  as  I  have  had." 

"  But,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  do  you  not  think 
you  would  have  been  much  happier  if  you  had  accepted 


DOROTHY   FOX  109 

your  position,  acknowledged  yourself  unable  to  compete 
with  your  wealthy  friends,  and  contented  yourself  with 
the  society  of  those  who  valued  you  for  yourself?" 

"  And  where,  I  should  like  to  know,  would  you  have 
been  had  I  only  studied  my  own  ease?  Really,  Charles, 
I  was  unprepared  for  such  ingratitude  in  you,  when  my 
one  aim  has  been  to  maintain  and  keep  my  position  for 
my  children's  sake." 

"  My  dear  mother,  you  know  I  appreciate  all  your 
goodness,  but  I  do  dislike  being  tolerated  and  patronised, 
through  accepting  invitations  I  can  never  make  any  return 
for." 

"  Then  all  I  can  say  is,  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that 
my  son  possesses  such  a  plebeian  spirit  of  independence. 
A  proper  pride,  which  forbids  one  to  make  intimates  of 
vulgar  people,  or  to  associate  with  persons  one  never 
meets  in  society,  I  can  appreciate;  but  to  give  up  the 
entree  to  such  houses  as  stamp  your  standing  in  society, 
because  the  people  don't  make  a  great  fuss  about  you,  or 
be  unable  to  put  up  with  a  somewhat  rude  speech  from  a 
person  who  can  get  you  invited  to  most  of  the  places 
other  people  are  dying  to  be  seen  at,  would  be  a  piece  of 
folly  which  few  well-bred  persons,  I  think,  could  under- 
stand." 

Captain  Verschoyle  smiled  as  he  answered, — 

*'  Your  ladyship  lays  too  much  weight  on  aristocratic 
birth  and  breeding,  forgetting  that  *  virtue  alone  is  true 
nobility.'  " 

,  "  Charles,  I  beg  you  will  not  repeat  any  of  those  horrid 
radical  sayings  to  me.  You  are  really  growing  exactly 
like  that  odious  old  Henry  Egerton,  who  is  always  preach- 
ing about  equality.  I  suppose  you  will  be  telling  me  next 
that  it  is  my  duty  to  visit  with  the  greengrocer,  and  to 
cultivate  the  society  of  the  butcher  and  baker,  with  a 


no  DOROTHY   FOX 

view  to  an  ultimate  alliance  being  formed  with  some  of 
them." 

"  Well,  you  know,"  said  her  son,  slily,  "  you  are  giving 
your  consent  to  one  of  the  family  marrying  a  tradesman." 

"  I  have  no  patience  with  you,  Charles.  If  you  have 
not  the  sense  to  understand  the  difference  which  a  colos- 
sal fortune  makes  in  the  man's  position.  I  give  you  up. 
I  have  never  asked,  and  I  have  no  curiosity  to  know,  how 
Mr.  Ford  made  his  money.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know 
that  he  has  it,  and  that  society  accepts  him  on  the  same 
terms.  I  am  quite  sure  that  when  he  is  Audrey's  husband 
they  will  be  in  a  very  good  set ;  I  shall  take  care  of  that. 
Our  family  know  too  well  what  is  due  to  any  member  of 
it  not  to  lend  a  helping  hand.  I  don't  expect  your  uncle 
Spencer,  nor  Lord  Towcester,  nor  any  of  our  aristocratic 
cousins,  to  make  a  boon  companion  of  the  man,  but  I  feel 
certain  that  they'll  ask  him  to  their  large  entertainments, 
and  always  accept  his  invitations  to  dinner." 

"  Poor  old  gentleman !"  exclaimed  Captain  Verschoyle, 
"  he  won't  trouble  the  family  long ;  he'll  soon  sink  under 
all  the  greatness  thrust  upon  him.  Do  you  think  that  if 
I  were  to  honour  with  my  hand  some  daughter  of  a  house 
gilded  but  yet  defiled  by  trade,  I  should  be  able  to  insure 
that  my  wife  would  be  jostled  by  the  aristocratic  elbows 
assembled  at  Grantley  House,  and  snubbed  by  the  patri- 
cian mouth  of  Lady  Spencer  ?" 

"  There  can  be  no  occasion  for  me  to  answer  such 
absurd  questions.  Besides,  I  hope  your  wife  will  be  able 
to  enter  society  in  her  own  right.  The  Binghams  are  an 
old  county  family,  and  distantly  connected  with  Lord 
Radnor  and  the  Tuftons.  I  found  all  that  out  from  Mrs. 
Winterton." 

"  Oh !  is  it  decided,  then,  that  Miss  Bingham  is  to  be 
your  future  daughter-in-law  ?" 


DOROTHY   FOX  III 

"  Well,  it  will  be  your  own  fault  if  she  is  not,  and  I 
should  think  you  would  hardly  be  so  blind  as  to  throw 
such  a  chance  away ;  for  though  you  keep  your  looks  re- 
markably well,  you  have  certainly  lost  much  of  the  esprit 
you  had  some  years  ago.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about 
Miss  Bingham,  only  we  have  wasted  all  our  time  over  this 
ridiculous  discussion.  I  see  now  who  Mr.  Ford  was  re- 
serving her  for." 

"And  who  was  that?" 

"  This  Mr.  Dynecourt  he  makes  so  much  of.  It  is  not 
likely  he  will  have  a  chance  with  you;  but  still  I  should 
redouble  my  attentions,  and  when  all  is  settled  between 
Audrey  and  Mr.  Ford,  she  can  give  him  a  hint  not  to 
press  the  young  man  to  prolong  his  stay." 

"  I  beg  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  mother,  for  I 
can  assure  you  it  is  not  at  all  certain  at  present  that  I 
shall  ever  wish  to  dispute  any  one's  claim  to  the  honour 
of  being  Miss  Bingham's  suitor." 

Lady  Laura  saw  that  her  son  was  not  now  inclined  to 
listen  favourably  to  her  schemes  for  his  marriage,  so  she 
wisely  resolved  to  hold  her  tongue.  Professing  to  be 
suddenly  amazed  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  she  asked 
him  if  it  was  not  time  that  he  should  join  the  rest  of  the 
party,  whom  she  was  going  to  see  start,  for  her  inclina- 
tion did  not  prompt  her  to  accompany  them. 

Mr.  Ford  proposed  driving  to  Abbot's  Gate,  and  Au- 
drey volunteered  to  be  his  charioteer.  As  they  had  to  go 
round  a  long  distance,  they  started  before  the  pedestrians. 
The  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  Mr.  Dynecourt, 
and  Audrey  heard  to  her  great  surprise  that  he  had  been 
the  former  owner  of  the  property.  Air.  Ford  grew  elo- 
quent while  eulogizing  the  man  who  had  acted  so  nobly. 

"  I  do  not  expect  you  to  admire  his  conduct  as  I  do, 
Miss  Verschoyle,  because  you  have  not  been  brought  up 


112  DOROTHY   FOX 

to  look  on  an  honest,  independent  spirit  as  I  have;  but 
the  man  who  possesses  that,  and  sufficient  perseverance 
to  battle  with  the  world  arid  to  conquer,  why,  it  is  nineteen 
to  one  but  he'll  succeed.  Where  should  I  have  been  but 
for  that?  Certainly  not  sitting  beside  you,  my  dear 
young  lady,"  he  added,  sobering  down,  lest  he  might  be- 
come too  confidential  in  his  enthusiasm.  "  I  tell  Mr. 
Dynecourt  he'll  die  Lord  Chancellor  yet.  I  hate  going, 
to  law,  but  I  should  almost  snatch  an  opportunity  that  I 
might  do  him  a  good  turn." 

"  Why,"  said  Audrey,  "  what  is  he?" 

"  A  barrister,  and  a  very  rising  one,  too.  He  has  many 
influential  friends,  and  every  sensible  man  commends  his 
spirit.  Some  of  his  other  friends  wished  him  to  wait 
and  get  a  diplomatic  something,  but  he  preferred  doing 
what  he  has  done,  and  I  honour  him." 

"  Poor  fellow !"  said  Audrey,  "  what  a  trial ;  not  onI)r 
giving  the  place  up,  but  all  the  old  memories  and  associa- 
tions ;  oh !  I  do  JO  feel  for  him." 

"  So  did  I,  Miss  Verschoyle,  more  than  I  ever  did  for 
any  one  in  my  life." 

"  But  could  nothing  be  done?"  said  Audrey;  "  was  he 
irretrievably  ruined  ?" 

"  Nothing  could  be  done  then ;  things  had  been  going 
from  bad  to  worse  for  generations;  the  former  owners 
had  shut  their  eyes,  and  left  to  their  successors  the  task 
of  amending  matters,  or  of  plunging  deeper  into  the  mire. 
I  cannot  explain  it  to  you,  but  embarrassments  hedged 
him  in  completely,  so  that  notwithstanding  the  enormous 
sum  I  paid  for  the  place,  Mr.  Dynecourt  was  not  able  to 
secure  more  than  suffices  to  bring  him  in  £500  a  year.  I 
tell  you  this,  knowing  it  will  go  no  farther." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Audrey,  "  it  is  safe  with  me.  I 
am  very  glad  you  have  told  me.' 


DOROTHY   FOX  113 

"  I  thought  when  I  did  so  you  would  appreciate  him," 
said  Mr.  Ford,  kindly. 

"  I  do,  and  you  too,  Mr.  Ford ;  you  have  a  very  noble 
nature." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear ;  that  is  a  compliment  which, 
coming  from  you,  I  value  very  much." 

Had  Audrey  entertained  the  idea  her  mother  had 
credited  her  with,  and  pursued  her  opportunity,  assuredly 
she  would  then  have  been  offered  the  hand  of  Richard 
Ford.  But  she  did  not  wish  that  the  honour  should  be 
presented  to  her  just  yet.  So,  when  they  reached  Abbot's 
Gate,  and  had  sent  the  carriage  back,  she  adroitly  changed 
the  subject  by  reminding  Mr.  Ford  that  he  had  never 
given  her  an  account  of  the  ruin  they  were  going  to  see 
at  Abbot's  Rest.  Once  launched  on  his  favourite  topic, 
Audrey  was  safe  from  all  love  passages,  which,  to  speak 
truth,  Mr.  Ford  was  very  glad  to  shirk;  for  he  more 
often  wished  his  companion  was  his  daughter  than  that 
she  should  be  his  wife.  He  had  no  desire  to  marry ;  and 
the  only  inducement  was,  that,  with  the  exception  of  two 
or  three  distant  cousins,  about  whom  he  cared  nothing, 
he  had  nobody  to  whom  he  could  leave  his  wealth. 
Though  he  could  always  gather  people  round  him,  yet 
he  was  very  lonely  in  the  midst  of  them.  And  then  he 
was  being  constantly  told  that  he  ought  to  marry.  He 
had  taken  a  great  liking  to  Audrey;  and  since  she  had 
been  his  guest  his  regard  had  grown  daily,  until  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  if  he  did  marry,  she  should  be  his 
wife.  Still  he  gave  a  sigh  when  he  thought  of  this,  for 
notwithstanding  his  sixty  years,  his  stout  figure,  and  gen- 
erally commonplace  appearance,  Richard  Ford  had  a  seat 
in  his  heart  which  death  had  left  vacant ;  and  it  seemed  to 
him  something  like  sacrilege  to  a  memory  to  fill  that 
place,  even  in  name. 

8 


CHAPTER   XI 
abbot's  walk 

Abbot's  Walk  was  a  long  avenue  of  beech-trees,  at  the 
end  of  which  was  an  old  ivy-covered  ruin  of  what  had 
probably  been  a  votive  chapel  to  some  saint.  Tradition 
said  that  the  pious  abbot,  Petrock,  had  "  raised  it  to  that 
reverend  St.  German,  bishop  of  Auxerre,  whose  memorial 
was  so  sacred  among  the  Britons,  that  many  churches 
were  dedicated  to  his  memory  in  this  island;"  and  the 
good  Petrock  having  gone  thither,  as  was  his  daily  wont, 
to  meditate  on  the  saint's  wisdom,  "  in  that  he  had  been 
one  of  those  who  confuted  Pelagius's  heresy,"  was  found 
by  the  monks  seemingly  in  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he 
had  never  awakened.  From  that  time  they  had  named 
this  peaceful  retreat  "  The  Abbot's  Rest."  You  might 
have  wandered  many  a  long  mile  before  so  fair  and  se- 
cluded a  spot  would  have  met  your  eye.  Coming  imme- 
diately out  of  the  rather  gloomy  walk,  the  little  knoll  on 
which  the  ruin  stood  looked  bright  without  being  sunny. 
Its  rich  carpet  of  wild  thyme  was  studded  with  flowers 
rarely  found  in  any  other  part  of  the  grounds.  The  large 
stones,  lying  here  and  there,  were  covered  with  moss,  and 
formed  supports  to  thick  low  bushes  of  roses,  which  were 
cut,  in  order  to  prevent  their  long  branches  trailing  over 
the  ground.  On  the  side  opposite  the  ruin,  you  were  sepa- 
rated from  Dyne  woods  by  a  lazy  murmuring  stream. 

When  Audrey  and  Mr.  Ford  came  suddenly  to  this 
spot,  they  both  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  to  find 
114 


IX)ROTHY   FOX  iiS 

the  whole  party  assembled.  They  were  all  sitting  quietly 
after  their  walk,  either  silently  resting,  or  conversing  in 
low  whispers.  The  first  couple  Audrey  took  note  of  was 
her  brother  and  Miss  Bingham.  Then  she  looked  all 
round.  To  her  disappointment,  Mr.  Dynecourt  was  not 
there.  But  he  might  have  rambled  away  with  the  Rector's 
daughter,  so  she  asked, — 

"  Did  you  call  for  Miss  Coventry  ?" 

"  We  sent  for  her,"  said  Miss  Bingham,  "  but  she  had 
an  engagement." 

Perhaps  he  was  coming  later. 

After  a  time  she  said,  "  But  where  is  Mr.  Dynecourt  ?" 

"  He  asked  me  to  excuse  him  early  in  the  morning," 
returned  Mr.  Ford. 

"  Yes,"  added  Miss  Trefusis,  "  he  walked  to  the  first 
gate  with  us,  and  pointed  out  the  prettiest  way,  but  he 
said  he  was  unable  to  join  us." 

"  We  made  a  bargain  together,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  "  that 
if  he  would  come  here,  he  should  be  entirely  free  to  do  as 
he  liked,  and  go  where  he  liked  unquestioned.  I  daresay 
he  has  gone  off  to  one  of  the  neighbours:  they  are  all 
anxious  to  see  him." 

"  There  are  no  people  living  very  near  here,  though  ?" 
said  Audrey. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Ford,  "  but  he  is  an  excellent  walker, 
and  if  he  chooses  to  ride  or  drive  he  can  do  so." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Audrey  was  vexed,  as  well  as  dis- 
appointed. She  had  no  wish  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  should 
fall  in  love  with  her,  but  she  wanted  him  to  admire  her. 
Before  she  had  heard  his  history,  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  devote  herself  to  that  purpose  during  the  day. 
This  desire  had  been  the  cause  of  the  especial  regard  she 
had  that  morning  displayed  for  her  personal  appearance.. 
Since  the  conversation  with  Mr.  Ford,  all  her  sympathies 


ii6  DOROTHY   FOX 

had  been  enlisted ;  and  she  resolved  she  would  delicately 
pay  him  every  attention.  He  should  feel  that  all  this  was 
not  from  pity,  but  from  an  appreciation  of  his  character.. 
And  now,  after  all  this  thought  and  planning  on  her  part, 
he  was  not  to  be  present  to  receive  the  benefit.  She  was 
piqued.  But  after  a  time  she  smiled  at  her  unreasonable 
vexation.  "  I  am  forgetting,"  she  thought,  "  that  I  am 
scarcely  on  promotion  now.  How  odd  it  will  be  for  me  to 
have  done  with  scheming ;  it  will  rather  diminish  the  zest 
of  going  out.  I  wonder  what  thorns  lie  on  the  bed  of 
roses  upon  which  unbounded  wealth  reposes.  Not  many, 
I  fancy,  that  will  penetrate  my  hardened  skin.  So  adieu 
to  my  new-fledged  fancy,  I'll  console  myself  with  my 
Nestor;  but,  my  mood  being  somewhat  captious,  I  had 
better  not  indulge  in  tcte-a-tctes." 

The  day  passed  very  pleasantly,  Audrey  exerting  her- 
self to  amuse  everybody;  helping  General  Trefusis  to 
compound  a  delicious  mystery  in  the  shape  of  a  cham- 
pagne cup;  washing  the  salad  in  the  stream;  insisting 
on  Mr.  Ford  helping  her  to  lay  the  table;  then  making 
him  sit  down  and  watch  her,  because  she  feared  he  was 
tired;  and,  finally,  knowing  the  two  old  gentlemen  had 
walked  quite  enough,  she  professed  herself  unable  to  get 
farther  than  Abbot's  Gate.  General  Trefusis  and  Mr. 
Ford  must,  therefore,  please  drive  with  her,  and  they 
would  meet  the  rest  of  the  party  at  "  The  Dame's  Farm," 
and  after  tea,  again  drive  home  together. 

After  they  had  departed,  Mrs.  Crichett,  the  farmer's 
wife,  declared  that  if  that  was  the  lady  Mr.  Ford  was  to 
marrry,  though  he  had  picked  the  whole  world  he  could 
not  have  found  a  nicer.  Roger  Cross  had  told  her  all 
about  it,  and  she  was  a  noble-featured  madam. 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  the  good  woman,  "  I  wish  it  was  one 


DOROTHY    FOX  117 

of  the  old  stock  she  was  to  be  bride  to ;  what  a  couple  the 
master  and  she  would  make !" 

While  Audrey  was  dressing  for  dinner,  she  told  her 
mother  how  much  they  had  enjoyed  their  day.  Though 
she  did  not  seem  to  have  had  any  formal  proposal  made 
to  her,  yet  as  she  had  evidently  devoted  herself  to  Mr. 
Ford,  Lady  Laura  was  delighted  to  hear  her  daughter 
so  often  unconsciously  couple  their  names  together. 
Charles,  too,  seemed  to  have  made  up  for  his  dereliction 
by  paying  Miss  Bingham  very  pointed  attentions.  Al! 
was  thus  going  on  in  a  way  to  satisfy  her  maternal 
anxiety.  As  her  eyes  followed  Audrey's  graceful  figure 
through  the  room,  she  said,  with  pride,  to  Marshall, — 

"  Miss  Audrey  is  very  elegant,  Marshall." 

"  Yes,  my  lady ;  she  pays  for  dress." 

"  My  family  always  do,"  replied  Lady  Laura.  "  We 
seem  born  for  silks,  and  satins,  and  jewels;  but  then  you 
seldom  see  a  well-born  person  over-dressed.  There  was 
that  Mrs.  Danegelt ;  people  made  such  a  fuss  about  her, 
though  I  always  thought  she  had  too  many  ornaments  on ; 
and  afterwards  I  discovered  that  her  father  was  a  woollen- 
draper.  It's  a  very  odd  thing  how  naturally  people  seem 
to  become  what  they  are  born  to." 

"  But,  my  lady,  some  people  seem  to  think  that  any- 
thing becomes  them,"  said  Marshall,  drily. 

"  That  is  very  true,  Marshall ;  and  I  am  glad  to  know 
you  have  so  much  sense.  It  is  very  sad  to  see  all  the  bar- 
riers of  distinction  in  dress  and  other  things  broken  down ; 
besides,  it  is  so  wicked,  because,  of  course,  it  is  the  will 
of  Providence." 

"  Ah  I  m.amma,"  laughed  Audrey,  "  you  may  depend 
upon  it  there  are  people  desperate  enough  to  believe  that 
we  are  all  brothers  and  sisters." 

"  Well,  perhaps,  figuratively  speaking,  we  are  so ;   but. 


ii8  DOROTHY   FOX 

every  right-minded  person  will  know  and  appreciate  the 
demands  of  aristocratic  birth." 

"  Then  you  are  not  one  of  that  sort,  Marshall,"  said 
Audrey ;  "  for  I  have  been  demanding  my  fan  and  my 
handkerchief  for  the  last  twenty  minutes,  because,  if  per- 
mitted, my  wish  is  to  descend  to  the  drawing-room," 

Mr,  Dynecourt  made  his  appearance  at  dinner.  He  did 
not  sit  near  Audrey,  and  she  took  little  part  in  the  general 
conversation.  Lady  Laura,  remarking  this,  Mr,  Ford 
excused  her,  saying  she  must  be  tired.  She  had  done  so 
much  that  day,  he  explained;  adding,  in  his  usual  old- 
fashioned  way,  "  she  has  shown  us  that  she  can  be  as  use- 
ful as  she  is  ornamental,"  Audrey  nodded  her  thanks  to 
the  old  gentleman ;  and,  shielding  herself  under  the  plea 
of  fatigue,  ate  her  dinner  almost  in  silence. 

The  Finches  were  leaving  the  next  day ;  so  Mr,  Ford 
considered  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  devote  himself  to 
them  that  evening;  and  Miss  Verschoyle  was  allowed  to 
enjoy  her  book  undisturbed.  At  last  the  daylight  slowly 
faded  away,  and  she  was  obliged  to  give  up  reading.  Al- 
most immediately  after,  somebody  said, — 

"  I  have  been  waiting  patiently  for  you  to  close  your 
book.    I  had  not  the  courage  to  disturb  you." 

It  was  Mr.  Dynecourt ;  and,  having  said  this,  he  seated 
himself  by  her  side,  Audrey  expressed  regret  that  he  had 
not  shared  in  the  pleasure  of  the  day. 

"  Did  you  not  think  of  us  all  ?"  she  asked, 

"  I  do  not  know  that  I  thought  of  you  all ;  I  thought 
of  you  very  often." 

"  And  why  ?"  she  demanded. 

"  Well,  I  can  hardly  say  why,  but  things  you  had  said 
came  back  to  my  mind.  I  have  seen  so  few  ladies  lately, 
that  you  do  not  know  what  a  treat  it  is  to  me  to  talk  to 
one." 


DOROTHY   FOX  119 

**  Ah !"  she  answered,  laughing ;  "  observing  I  was  un- 
duly flattered  by  your  remembering  me  especially,  you 
hasten  to  show  me  the  compliment  is  due  to  my  sex,  not 
to  my  individual  charms." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  wrong ;  my  fear  is  that,  from  having 
been  unused  to  ladies'  society,  I  shall  say  too  readily  what 
is  in  my  mind,  and  so  give  offence  by  my  apparent  bold- 
ness." 

"  Have  you  no  sisters,  then  ?" 

"  No,  nor  any  near  female  relative.  All  my  intimate 
friends  are  middle-aged  married  people,  so  that  I  have 
never  been  in  a  position  to  talk  unreservedly  with  any 
woman." 

"  Do  not  tell  me  I  have  before  me  such  a  rara  avis  as  a 
man  who  has  never  cared  for  any  woman  in  particular." 

"  You  have,"  he  returned ;  "  I  do  not  say  I  was  never 
haunted  by  a  beautiful  face,  or  that  I  never  put  myself  out 
of  the  way  to  meet  some  pretty  girl  who  had  caught  my 
fancy;  but  as  to  being  in  love — certainly  not.  I  have 
never  seen  any  woman  whom  I  desired  to  marry,  and  I 
suppose  I  never  shall  now.  People  do  not  readily  fall  in 
love  at  eight-and-twenty.'* 

"  Oh,  men  do,"  said  Audrey. 

"  But  why  men  more  than  women  ?" 

"  Because  they  are  younger  at  that  age." 

"  But  not  in  heart  ?"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  not,  but  people  can  get  on  very  well 
without  love — if  they  have  money."  She  added :  "  Now, 
we  are  very  poor.  I  never  had  money  enough  to  meet  my 
wants,  and  naturally  I  have  felt  some  envy  of  the  people 
who  were  able  to  get  all  they  desired.  So  I  believe  the 
right  arrangement  is,  that  the  rich  men  should  marry  the 
poor  girls,  and  the  heiresses  the  men  without  money." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  "  pray  exclude  me  from 


I20  DOROTHY   FOX 

your  arrangement,  for  I  would  not  marry  the  richest 
woman  in  England  if  I  did  not  love  her  and  she  did  not 
love  me.  I  am  poor,  but  because  I  have  lost  my  property 
I  have  not  given  up  every  chance  of  happiness,  every 
claim  to  the  gift  which  God  has  left  to  us  as  a  feeble  trace 
of  Eden.  You  do  not  mean  that,  Aliss  Verschoyle.  I 
could  not  look  into  your  face  without  feeling  that  you 
have  loved,  or  that  you  will  love  deeply  and  truly." 

"  It  has  not  come  yet,"  she  replied ;  "  and,  to  quote  your 
words,  people  do  not  readily  fall  in  love  at  eight-and- 
twenty.  Now,  do  not  betray  my  confidence,  for  I  have  a 
horror  of  people  knowing  how  old  I  am.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
know  why  I  was  weak  enough  to  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it  before :  Mrs.  Winterton  asked  me  if  I 
did  not  admire  you;  and  added  that  you  were  wonder- 
fully young  looking  for  eight-and-twenty." 

Audrey  laughed.  "  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  you  were  polite 
enough  to  contradict  her.  I  shall  think  very  poorly  of 
your  savoir  faire  if  you  did  not." 

"  No,  I  did  not  contradict  her,  neither  did  I  agree  with" 
her.  I  said  what  I  thought — that  you  must  have  always 
looked  the  same,  and  that  you  would  always  continue  the 
same,  because  it  was  for  something  more  than  actual 
beauty  one  would  love  to  look  upon  such  a  face  as  yours." 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  "  Stay,"  she  said,  "  let 
me  recall  your  speech  of  this  morning :  '  I  never  pay  com- 
pliments— flattery  is  not  my  forte.'  " 

"  See,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  "  already  I  have  offended 
you ;  but  don't  be  too  severe.  I  told  you  I  was  afraid  that 
my  habit  of  speaking  my  thoughts  would  make  you  think 
me  overbold." 

"  Indeed !"  she  replied.  "  I  only  wanted  to  assure  my- 
self that  I  was  not  going  to  hear  of  my  goodness  and 
amiable  temper  next." 


DOROTHY   FOX  121 

"  I  should  never  tell  you  that,"  he  answered,  laughing, 
"because  I  am  not  sure  that  you  have  a  very  amiable 
temper.  Do  you  know  I  thought  you  were  more  cross 
than  tired  at  dinner  ?" 

Audrey  laughed  outright. 

"  So  I  was,"  she  said,  "  and  you  were  the  reason.  I 
was  vexed  with  you  for  not  coming  to  the  picnic." 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Ford  came  up,  and  she  went  on : 

"  I  am  just  telling  Mr.  Dynecourt  that  I  was  very  cross 
with  him  for  not  joining  us  to-day."    - 

"  That's  right,  my  dear,  yoii  scold  him.  I  did  not  like 
to  interfere  with  you,"  he  continued,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  young  man's  shoulder,  "  but  I  was  very  disappointed 
at  your  not  coming.  However,  we  will  have  another  day, 
and  then  you'll  make  up  for  it.  We  are  going  into  the 
next  room  now ;  Miss  Finch  has  consented  to  favour  us 
with  a  last  remembrance  of  her  beautiful  music." 

Audrey  prepared  to  follow. 

"  Afterwards,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  "  you  will  sing 
something." 

"  I !"  she  answered ;  "  no,  I  never  sing  to  people." 

"  But  you  sing  for  people.  I  heard  you,  and  thought 
it  was  different  from  any  singing  I  had  listened  to  before.'* 

Then  she  left  him,  and  sat  by  Miss  Finch's  side,  and 
afterwards  she  joined  Mr.  Ford,  so  there  was  no  further 
conversation  between  them.  Mr.  Ford  told  her  that  he 
hoped  she  liked  his  favourite,  and  that  he  should  be 
obliged  if  she  would  help  him  in  his  endeavour  to  make 
Mr.  Dynecourt's  visit  as  pleasant  as  possible. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  help  you  in  any  way  I  can," 
she  answered,  "  and  I  like  Mr.  Dynecourt  very  much. 
He  is  rather  different  from  anybody  I  have  met  before.  I 
enjoy  talking  to  him." 

"  That  is  right,"  answered  Mr.  Ford ;  "  I  want  you  tQ 


i2ii  tMDROTHY   FOX 

be  excellent  friends.    I  always  like  my  favourites  to  taktf 
to  one  another." 

"  Then  am  I  a  favourite?"  she  asked,  smiling  at  him. 

"  You  are  a  very  great  favourite,  my  dear.  I  only  wisK 
for  your  sake  that  I  was  a  young  man." 

"  Do  not  wish  that,"  she  said ;  "  perhaps  you  would  not 
be  so  nice." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  he  answered,  as  he  inwardly  contem- 
plated himself  at  five-and-twenty,  when  he  had  got  his 
first  start  in  life.  How  would  this  elegant  young  lady 
have  regarded  him  then?  Certainly  not  with  the  eyes  of 
love,  as,  "  drest  all  in  his  best,"  he  gave  his  Patty  a  treat 
and  took  her  to  Primrose  Hill,  or  out  to  enjoy  the  won- 
ders of  the  St.  Helena  Gardens.  Ah !  what  happy  days 
those  were — past  for  ever,  for  money  could  purchase  no 
delights  such  as  he  knew  then.  He  sighed,  and  turning 
to  Audrey,  said, — 

"  Make  the  most  of  your  young  days,  Miss  Verschoyle ; 
youth  has  happiness  for  which  in  after  life  we  vainly 
sigh." 

"  Has  it?"  she  replied.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had  never  ex- 
perienced any  of  those  pleasures.  It  must  be  very  pleas- 
ant to  have  bygone  days  to  recall  and  dwell  upon." 

"  Sometimes  those  memories  come  back  very  bitterly," 
he  said,  "  and  yet  I  would  not  wittingly  part  with  one. 
Most  people  would  say  I  have  had  a  wonderfully  pros- 
perous life,  and  I  thankfully  acknowledge  that  I  have; 
but  if  it  were  permitted  that  we  might  in  any  way  makej 
a  choice,  I  would  have  given  up  my  money  had  God  seen 
fit  to  spare  me  what  I  valued  more." 

Audrey  had  no  opportunity  of  making  any  answer,  for 
Mr.  Ford  abruptly  turned  round  and  asked  Miss  Trefusis 
to  play  him  "  The  Harmonious  Blacksmith,"  and  their 
tete-d-tete  was  not  renewed. 


CHAPTER   XII 

LOOKING   TO   BOTH    SIDES 

To  regulate  his  feelings  by  his  common  sense  is  one  of 
the  most  difficult  tasks  a  man  can  set  himself  to  perform. 
So,  at  all  events,  thought  Captain  Verschoyle  as  he  en- 
deavoured to  pursuade  himself  that,  should  Miss  Bingham 
accept  the  hand  his  common  sense  prompted  him  to  offer 
her,  he  ought  to  consider  himself  a  very  lucky  fellow. 
"  She  is  extremely  ladylike,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  de- 
cidedly pretty,  and  inclined  to  be  uncommonly  fond  of 
me."  Yet  he  did  not  like  her,  and  it  was  no  use  asking 
himself  why.  It  was  enough  that,  notwithstanding,  all 
her  attractions,  he  did  not,  could  not,  and  never  should 
care  for  her. 

He  felt  his  utter  inability  to  marry  without  money. 
Nevertheless  this  was  his  real  position,  and  unless  the 
girl  he  might  desire  to  make  his  wife  possessed  an  in- 
come at  least  equalling  his  own,  he  must  forego  all  idea 
of  changing  his  condition.  True,  he  might  do  so  if  he 
gave  up  his  profession;  but,  when  he  contemplated  all 
the  advantages  he  hoped  to  gain  by  his  hard  service, 
his  campaigns,  and  Crimean  feats,  he  exclaimed, — 

"  No !  not  for  any  woman  living.  What  makes  me 
want  to  get  married  I  don't  know ;  but  certainly  when  I 
came  home  this  time  the  idea  took  possession  of  me ;  and 
then  that  foolish  old  mother  of  mine  is  so  anxious  to 
secure  this  chance,  which  she  very  flatteringly  hints  may 
be  my  last.    Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  a  fool  if  I  don't 

123 


124  '    DOROTHY   FOX 

try  my  luck.  A  fellow  does  not  get  such  a  chance  every 
day." 

Then,  as  he  stood  in  front  of  the  glass  settling  his  tie, 
he  thought, — 

"  I'm  not  a  bad-looking  fellow,  and  I  don't  think  that, 
as  men  go,  I'm  a  bad  sort,  but  I'm  hanged  if  I  believe  any 
woman  was  ever  downright  in  love  with  me  yet.  They've 
shammed,  and  so  have  I,  so  I  have  not  very  much  right 
to  complain." 

After  this  he  succeeded  in  running  a  pin  into  the  back 
of  his  neck,  which  feat  effectually  drove  love  and  Miss 
Bingham  out  of  his  head;  and,  after  the  manner  of  his 
sex,  he  spent  the  rest  of  the  time  in  bestowing  the  most 
condemnatory  epithets  on  those  indispensable  require- 
ments. Later  in  the  day  he  sought  his  mother,  and  finding 
her  in  her  own  room,  he  said,  suddenly  and  without  any 
preamble, — 

"  Mother,  do  you  know,  I  think  I  shall  run  up  to  town 
for  a  few  days." 

Lady  Laura  regarded  her  son  with  considerable  sur- 
prise, but  she  would  not  commit  herself  further  than 
to  repeat,  "  Going  to  town  for  a  few  days !" 

"  Yes ;  I  want  to  see  after  those  boxes  of  mine.  There 
is  some  bother  with  the  railway  now." 

Her  ladyship  put  a  mark  in  the  book  she  was  reading, 
shut  it,  and  laid  it  on  the  table  near  her.  Then  turning 
round  so  that  she  might  face  her  son,  she  said,  as  she 
looked  at  him  fixedly, — 

"  My  dear  Charles,  what  can  you  mean  ?  May  I  ask 
what  are  your  intentions  ?" 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughed  as  he  answered,  "  Well, 
the  truth  is,  I  feel  so  uncertain  of  my  intentions  that  I 
want  to  try  if  a  week's  absence  will  not  help  my  decision." 

Lady  Laura  gave  a  little  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  as  she 


DOROTHY   FOX     .  125 

continued,  in  her  sweetest  voice,  "  You  are  acting  very 
foolishly,  Charles,  and  nothing  is  more  fatal  than  inde- 
cision. Now,  if  you  have  any  doubt  of  yourself,  why  do 
you  not  propose  this  very  day,  being  quite  certain  what 
your  line  of  action  should  be  ?  After  the  thing  is  done  you 
cannot  draw  back,  and  you  will  begin  at  once  to  see  the 
wisdom  of  your  choice." 

"  No,  mother,  that  is  not  me  at  all.  If  I  acted  upon 
your  advice  I  should  repent  it  immediately,  and  perhaps 
ever  after." 

Lady  Laura  saw  she  had  best  try  a  little  severity,  so 
she  demanded,  in  a  rather  sarcastic  tone,  "  Would  it  be  too 
much  to  ask  you  what  more  you  want  than  a  sweet, 
amiable  girl,  ready  to  yield  to  your  every  wish;  whose 
money  you  might  spend  without  a  word  being  asked; 
who  would  at  any  time  be  made  happy  by  the  prospect 
of  a  ball  or  fete,  and  who  would  be  won  over  and  ap- 
peased by  any  trifling  article  of  dress  or  jewellery,  with- 
out casting  in  your  teeth  that  it  was  her  own  silver  which 
had  baited  the  hook  that  secured  her  favour  ?" 

"  But,  mother,  I  don't  see  why  I  should  marry  at  all 
unless  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  it  would  immensely  add 
to  my  happiness.    My  income  is  sufficient  to  keep  me." 

"  Oh !  indeed,  is  it  ?"  interrupted  Lady  Laura,  elevating 
her  eyebrows  with  feigned  astonishment. 

"  Well !  I  know  I  have  kicked  over  the  traces  some- 
times, but  I  always  manage  to  make  things  square  in  the 
end.    I've  always  contrived  to  pay  what  I  owed." 

"  Really,  have  you  ?"  Then  she  added,  in  the  same  cut- 
ting tone,  "  What  a  comfort  for  a  mother  to  know  that 
she  has  a  son  whose  highest  ambition  in  life  is  to  be  able 
to  pay  what  he  owes !" 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  you're  get- 
ting vexed  with  me,  and  there  is  no  reason  for  that.    I 


126  DOROTHY   FOX 

only  tell  you  that  I  think  I  had  best  have  a  few  days  by 
myself  before  I  decide — perhaps  an  unnecessary  thing — 
for  very  likely  the  young  lady  or  her  belongings  would 
turn  up  their  noses  at  a  penniless  soldier,  though  he  had 
the  honour  of  being  Lady  Laura  Verschoyle's  son." 

"  Indeed,  they  would  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Lady 
Laura,  angrily.  "  Though  it  is  quite  true  dozens  of  men 
would  snap  at  her,  yet  remember  every  man  is  not  con- 
nected as  you  are;  and  from  something  I  learned  about 
them  a  few  days  since,  I  know  that  unless  she  does  marry 
somebody  of  good  family,  she  will  never  get  into  a  good 
set.  Turn  up  their  noses  at  you,  indeed  I  If  they  did,  I 
should  soon  give  them  a  quiet  hint  which  would  consider- 
ably alter  their  tone." 

Lady  Laura  said  a  great  deal  more  to  her  son,  and  he 
said  a  great  deal  more  to  her ;  but  in  spite  of  her  advices, 
her  remonstrances,  and  cutting  speeches,  he  ended  as  he 
had  begun,  with  a  determination  to  excuse  himself  to 
Mr.  Ford  on  the  plea  of  business,  and  to  start  the  next 
morning  for  London,  where  he  said  he  should  probably 
remain  a  week. 

During  the  day  Captain  Verschoyle  told  his  sister  of  his 
intended  visit  to  London,  assigning  as  a  reason  for  his 
absence  his  anxiety  about  the  missing  boxes.  Audrey 
only  laughed  and  shook  her  head  as  she  bade  him  put  no 
trust  in  the  saying,  that  "  Absence  makes  the  heart  grow 
fonder."  "  It  may  make  it  grow  fonder  of  somebody  else, 
Charlie,"  she  went  on,  "  but  not  of  the  one  on  whom  you 
are  just  now  trying  the  recipe." 

"  Mind  your  own  business,"  returned  her  brother,  "  and 
keep  your  wisdom  to  help  you  to  swallow  your  own  pill ; 
for  I  tell  you,  Audrey,  that  if  I  were  you  that  old  fellow 
would  be  a  choker  for  me." 

"  My  dear  Charles,  do  you  know  that  the  domestic  ani- 


DOROTHY   FOX  127 

tnals  of  our  species  are,  by  a  wonderful  provision  of 
nature,  gifted  with  a  remarkable  power,  by  which  they  can 
get  down  the  most  unpleasant  bolus,  provided  it  be  only 
well  gilded?" 

Then  as  soon  as  she  had  driven  him  off,  and  was  alone, 
she  said  to  herself,  "  Poor  Charlie,  he  need  not  be  in  a 
great  hurry  now  I  shall  be  of  some  service  to  him,  I  hope. 
How  delightful  to  think  of  being  able  to  be  generous! 
Mr.  Ford  is  a  liberal  man  I  see,  and  he  is  certainly  very 
kind  to  me ;  and  1" — here  she  sat  thinking  for  some  time 
until  the  luncheon  bell  disturbed  her,  and  she  arose  hur- 
riedly, saying,  "  It's  of  no  use ;  once  for  all  let  me  remem- 
ber that  the  thing  is  impossible.  Impossible  f  Why,  what 
folly  will  seize  me  next?  Are  we  not  two  beggars  with 
nothing  but  our  hearts  to  call  our  own?  If  I  do  not  take 
care,"  she  added,  with  a  little  bitter  laugh,  "  even  that 
small  possession  will  not  remain  long  in  my  keeping. 
How  a  woman  might  love  him,  though !  And  I  believe 
that  he  has  never  cared  for  any  one  before." 

Surely  Audrey  could  not  have  meant  Mr.  Ford  in 
speaking  thus  to  herself ;  for  as  she  went  down  the  stairs 
her  last  thought  was,  "  I  hope  that  when  I  am  mistress 
here  he  will  let  me  be  very  kind  to  him." 

After  luncheon  Lady  Laura  took  the  opportunity  of 
trying  to  find  out  from  Mrs.  Winterton  how  long  she 
thought  of  remaining  at  Dynecourt.  Hearing  that  she 
was  likely  to  stay  a  fortnight  longer,  her  spirits  rose. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  said,  "  I  am  asking  on  my 
dear  boy's  account.  Those  horrid  people  at  the  Horse- 
Guards  will  never  let  him  alone,  and  he  has  to  go  there  to- 
morrow on  some  business  which  may  detain  him  for  a 
week.  Poor  fellow !  he  is  so  dismal  about  it ;  and  he  is 
dreadfully  anxious  to  be  certain  that  he  will  find  you  here 
>vhen  he  returns.     I  don't  think  I  shall  speak  to  you," 


128  DOROTHY   FOX 

continued  her  ladyship,  playfully,  to  Miss  Bingham,  who 
joined  them;  "  I  am  so  jealous.  Here  I  find  Charles  low- 
spirited  and  dull  because,  as  I  think,  he  has  to  leave  his 
foolishly  fond  mother  for  a  week ;  but,  dear  me,  I  dis- 
cover that  I  am  nobody,  and  that  all  this  anxiety  is  about 
somebody  else,  and  whether  she  will  be  here  when  he 
returns." 

Though  Miss  Bingham  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  Lady  Laura, 
Avhat  do  you  mean  ?"  she  was  evidently  pleased,  and  quite 
forgot  her  vexation  of  a  few  hours  before,  which  had  been 
occasioned  by  Captain  Verschoyle,  without  any  comment 
or  seeming  regret,  telling  her  that  he  was  going  to  Lon- 
don for  a  week. 

"  Ah !  you  may  well  look  guilty,"  continued  Lady 
Laura,  drawing  the  young  lady's  arm  within  her  own ; 
"  and  during  his  absence  I  shall  make  you  console  me  by 
being  my  constant  companion." 

In  spite  of  this  manceuvre,  and  notwithstanding  that 
Lady  Laura  felt  she  had  managed  matters  in  the  best  pos- 
sible manner,  she  was  still  extremely  annoyed  with  her 
son ;  and  when  next  morning  he  came  to  wish  her  "  good- 
bye," she  said  that  she  was  very  unwell,  that  she  had 
passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  that  her  nerves  were  com- 
pletely unstrung. 

"  Now  don't  look  so  dismal,  mother,"  he  said.  "  I  dare- 
say by  the  time  I  come  back  I  shall  be  only  too  delighted 
to  listen  to  your  sage  advice,  and  to  act  upon  it." 

Lady  Laura  closed  her  eyes,  and  feebly  shook  her  head, 
intimating  that  it  little  mattered,  for  he  would  not  have 
her  long :  she  was  not  what  she  used  to  be  before  he  went 
to  the  Crimea. 

"  Remember,  Charles,"  she  added,  "  I  cannot  stand 
anxiety  now ;  and  it  is  only  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  Dr. 
Coulson  says  my  life  hangs  upon  the  merest  thread." 


DOROTHY   FOX  129 

Still,  though  she  bade  him  good-bye  with  the  air  of  one 
taking  what  was  likely  to  prove  a  final  adieu,  she  entrusted 
him  with  a  note  to  her  milliner,  Madame  Roget,  telling 
him  to  impress  upon  Madame  the  urgency  of  these  com- 
missions being  immediately  attended  to,  so  that  the  new 
bonnet  and  head-dress  ordered  might  be  ready  by  the  fol- 
lowing Friday,  when  he  was  to  bring  them  down  with 
him.  After  this  she  kissed  him  mournfully,  and  sank 
back  upon  the  sofa  apparently  exhausted.  But,  much  to 
her  son's  astonishment,  as  he  was  slowly  descending  the 
stairs,  thinking  that  he  had  behaved  in  a  most  unfeeling 
manner,  he  heard  her  calling,  in  her  usual  voice, — 

"  Charles,  Charles,  tell  Madame  Roget  that  if  she  has 
any  doubt  about  tulle  she  is  to  put  lace,  but  that  I  de- 
sire it  may  not  be  such  an  expensive  one  as  the  last  she 
used." 

"All  right,  mother,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle, 
greatly  relieved  by  this  sudden  change  for  the  better; 
"  I'll  be  sure  to  execute  your  commissions,  and  you  shall 
have  something  scrumptious  when  I  come  back." 

Having  already  said  good-bye  to  the  rest  of  the  party, 
who  were  assembled  in  the  dining-room,  he  drove  past 
.with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

All  the  way  up  he  had  been  thinking  that  perhaps  he 
was,  after  all,  setting  off  on  a  fool's  errand.  Miss  Bing- 
ham had  looked  uncommonly  pretty  that  morning,  and  she 
seemed  quite  sorry  that  he  was  going.  It  would  be  rather 
a  sell  if,  while  he  was  away,  he  should  be  cut  out  by  Dyne- 
court,  who  hadn't  any  more  than  he  had,  and  was  there- 
fore equally  open  to  temptation. 

"  Well,  what  a  dog-in-the-manger  beast  I  am !"  he  said. 
"  I  don't  want  the  girl  myself — at  least  I  am  not  quite 
certain  whether  I  do  want  her  or  not — and  so  I  don't 
.wish  any  other  fellow  to  have  her  while  the  doubt  is  on 

9 


I30  DOROTHY   FOX 

my  mind.  I  should  not  do  badly  if  I  had  her  money, 
particularly  if  we  were  to  be  quartered  at  York  this  win- 
ter. What  would  old  Harry  Egerton  say  to  her,  I  won- 
der ?  I  have  a  good  mind  to  run  down  to  Kilcoy,  and  have 
a  talk  with  the  old  boy.  I  want  to  see  him,  and  I  know  in 
his  heart  he  wants  to  see  me,  though  he'd  die  before  he'd 
say  so." 

And  as  he  drove  to  his  hotel,  for  he  had  decided  not  to 
go  to  Egmont  Street,  he  thought  over  the  plan.  The  next 
two  days  in  London  with  nothing  to  do,  nobody  to  see, 
and  nowhere  to  go,  considerably  told  in  Miss  Bingham's 
favour.  Captain  Verschoyle  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
having  finished  his  ostensible  business  and  arranged  to 
go  to  the  Paddington  station  for  the  missing  boxes  that 
evening,  he  might  as  well  write  to  his  mother  and  tell  her 
that  it  was  very  probable  he  should  return  next  day.  He 
would  not  announce  his  intentions  too  decidedly,  else  her 
ladyship  would  fancy  by  his  more  speedy  return  that  the 
business  was  to  be  settled  to  her  satisfaction  without  de- 
lay. He  had  only  got  so  far  as  to  say  that  things  must 
take  their  course — che  sard,  sard.  He  half  wished  some- 
thing would  turn  up  to  prevent  him  from  returning  before 
the  day  he  had  specified,  but  he  could  not  stay  in  London 
longer — the  place  was  unbearable. 

When  he  reached  Paddington  the  station  was  in  all  the 
bustle  consequent  on  the  arrival  of  the  train  from  Ply- 
mouth. He  therefore  waited  until  most  of  the  passengers 
had  left,  and  then  went  on  the  platform  to  speak  to  the 
guard.  He  was  standing  looking  for  him  when  a  porter, 
addressing  some  one  near,  said,  "  No,  ma'am,  there's  no 
lady  waiting  on  the  other  side." 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  go  on,  then,"  returned  a  voice 
in  answer.  "  Wilt  thou  get  a  cab  for  us,  and  direct  the 
man  to  drive  to  the  Shoreditch  station?" 


DOROTHY   FOX  131 

Captain  Verschoyle  turned  quickly  round  and  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Mrs.  Fox,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  again !  I  hope 
you  will  permit  me  to  be  of  any  service  to  you  that  I 
can." 

Patience  held  out  her  hand,  saying,  "  Indeed,  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  thee,  for  I  have  so  little  knowledge  of  London 
that  I  feel  quite  bewildered  to  be  alone.  My  daughter 
was  to  have  met  us,  but  I  fear  something  unforeseen  has 
happened,  as  she  is  not  here." 

"  Your  daughter !"  ^ 

"Yes,  Grace  Hanbury,  my  married  daughter.  Oh! 
Dorothy  is  with  me." 

Immediately  Captain  Verschoyle  was  expressing  his 
pleasure  at  meeting  Miss  Fox  again. 

"  Did  I  hear  you  say  you  were  going  to  Shoreditch  ?'* 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter  lives  at  Fryston,  on  that  line." 

"  Then  you  must  allow  me  to  see  you  safely  to  the 
station." 

"  Would  it  not  be  giving  thee  trouble  ?"  said  Patience. 

"  No,  indeed ;  it  would  be  giving  me  great  pleasure,  so 
you  will  not  refuse  me." 

"  Thank  thee,"  replied  Patience ;  "  in  that  case  I  will 
gladly  accept  thy  offer,  for  Dorothy  and  I  are  but  country- 
folk, and,  therefore,  somewhat  timid  away  from  home  in 
this  large  city." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

JOSIAH    AT   BAY 

During  the  time  Patience  and  Dorothy  Fox  were  under 
Captain  Verschoyle's  escort  driving  to  the  Shoreditch 
station,  Grace  Hanbury  was  anxiously  waiting  for  them. 

A  slight  accident  had  detained  the  Fryston  train  for 
more  than  an  hour  on  the  road,  so  that  Grace  did  not 
reach  London  until  after  her  mother  and  sister  were  due 
at  Paddington. 

Fearing  if  she  then  went  on  they  might  cross  each 
other,  she  remained  where  she  was,  in  a  state  of  great 
anxiety  and  trepidation,  doubtful  as  to  what  they  would 
do,  whether  they  would  think  it  best  to  come  on  or  to 
wait,  and  knowing  her  mother  in  any  case  would  be 
nervous  at  not  seeing  her. 

The  hour  she  had  given  for  their  drive  from  Padding- 
ton had  passed,  and  she  was  standing  on  the  steps  irreso- 
lute as  to  the  expediency  of  her  taking  a  cab  and  start- 
ing off  in  search  of  them,  when,  to  her  unbounded  relief, 
they  drove  up. 

"  OH,  mother !  I  am  so  delighted  to  see  you,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  I  have  been  so  fidgeted  about  you  both. 
Dorothy,  my  dear,  give  me  your  bag.  I  started  from 
Fryston  so  as  to  have  more  than  an  hour  to  spare;  but 
the  engine  of  our  train  broke  down,  and  I  was  detained 
on  the  road  for  nearly  two  hours.  Of  course,  I  was  in 
an  agony  to  know  how  you  would  get  on,  for" — looking 
at  Captain  Verschoyle — "  I  feared  you  were  alone." 

"  So  we  were,"  said  Patience,  "  but  at  the  station  we 
132 


DOROTHY   FOX  133 

most  fortunately  met  Charles  Verschoyle,  and  he  kindly 
undertook  to  convey  us  safely  here." 

"  Wilt  thou  let  me  introduce  thee  to  my  daughter 
Grace  Hanbury?"  she  said,  turning  to  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle, who  was  looking  with  some  astonishment  at  this 
elegant  woman,  fashionably  dressed,  and  very  different 
from  the  person  he  had  expected  to  find  awaiting  them. 

Grace  held  out  her  hand,  saying,  "  You  have  done  me 
such  good  service  in  taking  care  of  my  mother  and  sis- 
ter, that  we  must  be  friends  at  once.  And  now  about 
your  luggage.  The  Fryston  train  goes  in  ten  minutes, 
and  I  think  we  might  save  it.  If  you  will  stay  here, 
mother,  Mr.  Verschoyle  and  I  will  look  after  your  par- 
cels." 

"  Oh,"  said  Patience,  addressing  Captain  Verschoyle, 
"  we  must  not  trespass  further  on  thy  goodness." 

"  You  must  allow  me  to  see  you  safely  off,  Mrs.  Fox  ;** 
and  he  followed  Grace,  who  was  wondering  who  this 
good-looking  man  could  be.  "  Verschoyle !  Verschoyle !" 
She  could  not  remember  any  Friends  of  that  name.  "  An 
admirer  of  Dolly's,  perhaps;  I  must  ask  him  to  din- 
ner. 

The  luggage  was  soon  ready.  The  train  drew  up,  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  found  them  a  carriage  to  themselves, 
helped  them  in,  looked  after  all  their  little  comforts, 
and  then  stood  waiting  to  see  them  start.  By  this  time 
he  had  quite  won  Grace's  heart ;  and  she  said,  "  I  hope 
you  will  come  down  to  Fryston  and  see  us.  It  is  only  a 
short  journey  from  London,  and  we  can  give  you  a  bed." 

Patience  was  so  taken  aback  at  this  speech  she  hardly 
knew  what  to  do ;  and  at  that  moment  it  was  impossible 
to  explain  to  Grace  the  slight  knowledge  they  had  of  the 
young  man  whom  she  mistook  for  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance. 


134  DOROTHY   FOX 

Captain  Verschoyle  saw  her  confusion,  and  thinking 
it  perhaps  arose  from  the  difference  her  mind  made  be- 
tween their  positions,  he  answered, — 

"  You  are  very  kind,  and  I  should  hke  to  come  of  all 
things;  but  unfortunately  I  was  thinking  of  leaving 
town  to-morrow." 

"  Don't  go  to-morrow,  come  to  us  to-morrow ;  I  want 
to  introduce  my  husband  to  you." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  mind  having  me  to-morrow,  I  will 
come  with  pleasure." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  a  soft  voice.  It  was  Dorothy, 
>vho,  meeting  Captain  Verschoyle's  eyes  turned  suddenly 
upon  her,  became  crimson.  She  had  not  intended  to  give 
utterance  to  her  thoughts;  but  she  was  so  glad  he  was 
coming  that  they  might  see  him  again.  Twenty  times 
during  the  last  two  hours  she  had  wished  Josiah  Crewd- 
son  were  like  him,  not  only  in  appearance,  but  in  being 
able  to  know  everything  you  wanted  without  being  told, 
and  in  saying  such  pleasant  Ihings. 

Dorothy  need  not  have  been  so  hard  upon  poor  Jo- 
siah; sympathy  might  haye  softened  her  comparisons, 
for  just  now  it  was  she  who  was  self-conscious  and  shy, 
sitting  silent  while  her  mother  and  Grace  talked  to  their 
new  friend. 

Mrs.  Hanbury  gave  him  all  the  necessary  instructions 
about  the  train  he  was  to  come  by,  and  then  they  had  to 
say  "  Good-bye,"  leaving  Captain  Verschoyle  standing, 
hat  in  hand,  watching  their  departure. 

"  What  a  handsome  man,  mother !"  exclaimed  Grace, 
as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing ;  "  so  nice  too,  and 
gentlemanly!    Who  is  he?" 

Patience  gave  her  the  history  of  their  acquaintance- 
ship, and  Grace  was  much  amused  at  it,  and  her  own 
mistake ;  "  for,  of  course,"  she  said,  "  I  supposed  he  was 


DOROTHY   FOX  135 

a  friend  of  yours ;  indeed,"  she  added,  laughing,  "  I  was 
not  sure  he  was  not  a  lover  of  our  little  Dolly's." 

"  Oh,  Grace !"  cried  Dorothy,  while  all  the  blood 
seemed  rushing  to  her  face ;  "  why,  he  is  a  soldier." 

"  A  soldier !  what,  one  of  father's  old  enemies !  Why, 
you  look  as  horrified,  child,  as  if  he  were  a  Mohamme- 
dan. Dear  me !  how  father  used  to  lash  those  unfortu- 
nate red  coats,  until  I  longed  to  take  up  the  cudgels  in 
their  defence.  But  I  daresay  he  has  changed  many  of 
his  notions  against  them  since  the  war;  for,  notwith- 
standing our  prejudices,  we  Friends  would  have  fared 
badly  but  for  these  *  sons  of  Belial/  as  Dorcas  Horsenail 
used  to  term  them." 

"Ah,  thou  must  not  laugh  at  Dorcas,"  said  Patience; 
"  her  peculiarities  are  few,  and  her  good  qualities  many. 
When  any  of  the  soldiers  come  home  sick  or  disabled, 
Dorcas  forgets  whose  sons  she  calls  them,  and  makes 
them  her  own  charge." 

"  Yes,  and  you  will  see,  mother,"  added  Grace,  "  that 
all  these  prejudices  which  Friends  have  held  because 
their  grandfathers  held  them,  will  die  out;  while  those 
principles  which  they  have  sifted  for  themselves  will  con- 
tinue as  long  as  the  sect  exists.  As  for  the  love  of  fight- 
ing, it  is  born  in  boys ;  I  believe  it  is  their  very  nature." 

"  What  dost  thou  think  I  heard  father  ask  cousin  Josh 
when  he  came  to  see  us  ?"  said  Dorothy — "  If  he  did  not 
remember  at  York  school  how  they  used  to  fight  the 
boys  of  other  schools,  when  they  got  a  chance,  because 
they  called  after  them,  *  Quack,  Quack !'  " 

"  That  is  splendid !  Oh,  we  will  hold  that  as  a  rod 
in  pickle  over  him,  Dolly." 

The  rest  of  the  journey  was  taken  up  in  giving  an  ac- 
count of  all  the  west-country  Friends,  most  of  whom  were 
known  to,  and  many  connected  with,  Grace. 


136  DOROTHY    FOX 

As  Captain  Verschoyle  drove  back  to  his  hotel,  he 
laughed  to  himself.  This  unlooked-for  meeting  would 
detain  him  in  town  another  day.  Perhaps  it  was  almost 
a  pity  to  have  accepted  it,  as  there  would  be  the  bother  of 
sending  a  telegram  to  his  mother.  However,  it  was 
done,  so  it  was  no  use  regretting;  and  then  he  thought, 
"  How  pretty  that  girl  is !  I  don't  think  I  have  seen  an- 
other such  face  since  I  have  been  in  England.  I  like  her 
manner  too,  half  shy  and  childish,  and  then  suddenly 
becoming  most  prim  and  old-fashioned.  The  sister  evi- 
dently does  not  belong  to  the  Quaker  persuasion,  except 
wearing  that  plain  dress  and  peculiar  bonnet  affair.  I 
wonder  at  women  having  anything  to  do  with  them ;  and 
yet  I  don't  know  if  I  should  have  admired  her  as  much 
in  the  flounces  and  furbelows  the  girls  deck  themselves 
out  with  now;  her  very  quaintness  would  be  half  the 
charm  to  some  fellows.  I  have  known  men  who  would 
have  raved  about  her  eyes — they  are  lovely,  and  couldn't 
she  make  them  speak  too !  By  Jove !  I  should  think  she 
made  the  hearts  of  all  the  thee's  and  thou's  in  the  com- 
munity palpitate  pretty  considerably." 

Whether  in  this  respect  Captain  Verschoyle's  specula- 
tions upon  Dorothy's  charms  were  strictly  correct  does 
not  appear;  but  certain  it  is  that  one  man  seemed  only 
to  have  found  out  that  he  had  a  heart  since  those  brown 
eyes  had  met  his — not  with  the  shy  coy  glances  they 
gave  to  Charles  Verschoyle,  but  with  a  fearless,  open 
gaze  straight  into  his  own,  which  could  not,  and,  if  they 
could,  dare  not,  tell  her  all  he  longed  to  say. 

Josiah  Crewdson  had  been  home  a  week,  though  it 
seemed  to  him  a  year — a  year  of  long  separate  days, 
every  hour  of  which  increased  the  growth  of  his  love  for 
Dorothy  Fox.  The  time  which,  before  he  saw  her,  was 
willingly  devoted  to  business  was  now  given  by  force. 


DOROTHY   FOX  137^ 

He  was  obliged  to  make  an  effort  not  to  think  of  the 
bewitching  face  which  tormentingly  came  between  him 
and  those  long  rows  of  figures  he  used  to  run  down  and 
add  up  with  such  fluency  and  skill.  Alas  for  poor  Jo- 
siah!  Now  that  he  knew  the  pleasure  life  could  give, 
there  was  no  more  contentment  in  the  joyless  existence 
he  had  before  spent. 

He  had  given  great  offence  to  his  sisters  by  his  strict 
reticence  with  regard  to  his  visit  generally,  and  to  Doro- 
thy in  particular.  The  Miss  Crewdsons  enjoined  silence 
as  a  virtue  to  be  especially  practised  by  Friends.  But  it 
is  not  in  the  human  nature  of  women,  even  Friends,  not 
to  be  especially  curious  regarding  those  of  their  sex  of 
whom  they  have  heard  much  and  seen  but  little.  The 
beauty  of  Patience  Fox  had  been  acknowledged,  and  her 
daughter  was  said  to  more  than  equal  her  in  personal 
favour;  therefore,  though  Josiah  would  have  been  se- 
verely rebuked  had  he  dwelt  upon  Dorothy's  fair  face, 
Jemima  and  Kezia  itched  to  give  that  rebuke  which  their 
brother's  taciturnity  drove  them  to  withhold.  Josiah  an- 
swered "  Yes"  or  "  No"  to  any  question  they  chose  to  put 
to  him,  but  he  volunteered  not  the  slightest  information, 
until  Kezia  was  driven  to  say  that  concealment  and 
mystery  led  to  discord  among  families,  and  was  a  thing 
which  their  father  particularly  warned  his  son  against. 
But  the  arrow  fell  aimless  in  its  attempt  to  loosen  Jo- 
siah's  tongue. 

Then  Jemima  tried  her  hand,  and  remarked  that  it  was 
a  pity  Josiah  had  gone  to  see  the  Foxes  in  such  a  spirit, 
as,  by  his  own  showing,  he  had  failed  to  produce  a  fa- 
vourable impression  upon  Dorothy,  who  was  doubtless  a 
woman  of  discernment. 

Then,  to  their  great  astonishment,  Josiah  turned  upon 
them,  told  them  to  mind  their  own  business,  not  to  inter- 


138  DOROTHY   FOX 

fere  with  him,  but  to  leave  him  to  manage  his  own  affairs. 
What  he  thought  of  Dorothy,  or  what  she  thought  of 
him,  concerned  themselves  alone,  and  he  did  not  want  it 
made  a  subject  of  any  general  or  domestic  conversation. 
But  if  they  wanted  to  know  what  he  thought  of  Dorothy 
Fox,  he  would  tell  them  in  a  few  words.  And  here  Jo- 
siah's  florid  round  face  became  crimson,  and  he  stam- 
mered and  stuttered  so  violently  that  he  had  to  jump  up 
suddenly  and  seize  his  bedroom  candle;  while,  between 
the  futile  attempts  his  unsteady  hand  made  to  light  it,  he 
managed  to  get  out :  "  She's  the  best,  and  the  most  beau- 
tiful, and  the  most  clever,  and  the  best-tempered,  and  the 
sweetest  girl  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life;  and  I  hope  she 
will  marry  me,  and  then  I  don't  care  for  anything  else  or 
anybody."  Having  delivered  himself  of  this  paean  in 
favour  of  the  lady  of  his  love,  Josiah  wound  up  with  an 
imprecation  against  the  unfortunate  candle,  which  was 
the  nearest  approach  he  had  ever  made  in  his  life  to- 
wards swearing,  banged  the  door  behind  him,  and  left 
his  sisters  speechless  with  astonishment  at  his  extraor- 
dinary and  unwarrantable  effrontery. 

For  once  in  their  lives  the  Miss  Crewdsons  seemed  to 
become  absolutely  limp.  Had  they  heard  aright?  Were 
they  in  their  senses?  Could  these  words,  still  ringing  in 
their  ears,  have  come  from  "  that  boy  Josiah  ?" 

"  Oh,  Jemima !"  Kezia  at  last  found  breath  to  gasp 
out,  "  if  father  had  been  alive !" 

"  Then  he'd  never  have  dared  to  do  it,"  answered  her 
sister ;  "  but  there's  more  in  this  than  meets  the  eye,  and 
unless  I  am  mistaken  thou  wilt  find  Dorothy  Fox  is  a 
bold,  forward  girl,  and  no  more  fitted  to  be  the  wife  of 
our  Josiah  than — than  thou  art." 

And  then  a  solemn  conference  ensued,  as  to  the  best 
jvay  of  rooting  out  of  Josiah  the  "  flesh  and  the  devil," 


DOROTHY   FOX  139 

which  two  evils  had  evidently  taken  hold  of  him.  One 
thing  they  both  decided  upon,  which  was  that  for  the 
present  they  had  better  not  mention  the  subject  to  him, 
but  let  him  alone  as  he  had  said,  and  preserve  towards 
him  a  demeanour  indicative  of  great  injury,  unwonted 
severity,  and  strict  silence. 

So  the  next  morning,  when  Josiah,  somewhat  abashed 
at  his  unusual  boldness,  desired  to  make  amends  by  being 
especially  attentive  to  his  sisters,  his  amicable  endeavours 
met  with  no  response.  Whenever  they  supplied  any  of 
his  wants  at  breakfast,  they  did  so  with  the  air  of  those 
who  don't  say  they  hope,  but  they  shall  be  surprised  if, 
they  are  not  heaping  "  coals  of  fire"  upon  the  trans- 
gressor's head.  And  they  sniffed  their  rather  long  noses, 
as  if  those  organs  were  being  gratified  by  the  smell 
emanating  from  the  retributory  process. 

Josiah  drove  into  Leeds  a  trifle  more  dispirited,  per- 
haps, than  usual,  but  not  so  disconsolate  as  after  former 
ebullitions  of  the  family  temper  he  had  been  wont  to  be. 
Now,  at  least  in  thought,  he  had  some  one  to  turn  to. 
Surely,  surely  Dorothy  would  learn  to  love  him.  She 
had  told  him  she  liked  him;  and  Nathaniel  said  that 
meant  love,  only  it  was  the  way  of  women  not  to  speak 
openly  of  their  feelings;  that  Josiah,  by  experience, 
could  understand.  He  knew  how  impossible  it  was  for 
him  to  tell  her  what  he  wanted  to  say;  but  if  she  only 
felt  it,  and  would  give  him  a  little  encouragement,  he 
could  say  all  that  now  seemed  lying  heavily  at  his  heart. 

So  the  day  and  its  duties  went  on,  and  Josiah  strove 
with  all  his  might  to  bend  his  energy  to  his  business,  and 
not  allow  himself  to  give  one  thought  to  Dorothy  until 
the  Cloth  Hall  was  closed,  the  good  bargains  made,  the 
opportunities  seized  upon. 

Then  he  threw  himself  into  his  well-worn  office  chair, 


I40  DOROTHY   FOX 

looked  at  his  watch,  found  it  was  past  four  o'clock,  gave 
a  sigh  of  relief,  thought  of  Dorothy,  and  wondered  if 
she  was  thinking  of  him.  Perhaps  so.  She  would  be 
most  likely  working;  or  he  pictured  her  near  the  old 
yew-tree — her  favourite  seat — reading  (for  he  knew 
nothing  of  the  letter  then  on  its  road,  telling  him  of  her 
journey  to  London). 

Was  she  thinking  of  him  ?    No,  indeed  I 

Fortunately  for  Josiah,  he  has  no  magic  mirror,  by 
whose  aid  he  can  see  Dorothy,  or  read  her  thoughts.  If 
he  had,  he  would  have  found  they  were  not  only  far  re- 
moved from  him,  but  given  to  another;  and  for  that 
other  Dorothy  (though  she  would  have  fairly  denied  the 
charge,  and  would  have  been  shocked  at  the  accusation) 
had  been  spending  more  time  in  the  arrangement  of  her 
hair  and  the  adjustment  of  her  plain  dress  than  she  had 
ever  done  before;  and,  worst  of  all,  when  it  was  com- 
pleted, she  was  never  more  dissatisfied  with  her  appear- 
ance. If  she  had  only  some  bit  of  colour  on,  she  knew 
she  would  look  better.  So  she  picked  from  the  box  out- 
side the  window  a  piece  of  scarlet  geranium,  and  held  it 
up  against  her  dress;  then,  after  a  guilty  look  around, 
she  stuck  it  for  a  moment  in  her  hair — how  pretty  it 
looked  there !  But  a  sudden  horror  of  her  vanity  seizing 
her,  she  pulled  it  hastily  out,  smoothed  the  place  over 
with  her  hand,  and  ran  half-way  down-stairs,  then  back 
again,  picked  up  the  flower,  and  demurely  came  down 
with  it  in  her  hand. 

Grace  was  at  the  door,  just  setting  off  to  drive  her 
ponies  down  to  the  station  to  meet  Captain  Verschoyle. 

She  nodded  to  her  sister,  thinking  how  pretty  the  girl 
looked,  as  she  stood  in  front  of  the  handsome  old-fash- 
ioned house,  watching  the  carriage  until  it  was  out  of 
sight. 


DOROTHY   FOX  141 

Fryston  Grange,  the  house  of  John  and  Grace  Han- 
bury,  was  one  of  those  houses  built  at  a  time  when  people 
who  lived  twenty  miles  from  London  were  as  completely 
country-folk  as  the  present  dwellers  in  remote  parts  of 
Cumberland  or  Cornwall. 

The  railway  had  completely  altered  the  people,  but  it 
had  left  the  little  town  very  much  as  it  had  found  it.  What 
was  the  use  of  building  shops  when  most  of  the  inhabi- 
tants went  to  London  for  all  their  household  purchases? 
Then  land  for  fresh  residences  could  not  be  bought, 
as  Fryston  was  encircled  by  a  royal  forest,  on  whose 
borders  stood  John  Hanbury's  house — a  long,  rambling 
building,  with  walls  covered  by  a  net-work  of  ivy,  climb- 
ing up  until  their  straggling  sprays  even  reached  and 
twined  round  the  quaint  chimneys.  The  windows  opened 
on  a  lawn  dotted  over  with  pine-trees,  and  here  an  old 
fir,  there  a  cedar,  farther  on  a  fantastic  willow.  From 
between  the  trees  the  distant  landscape  opened — War- 
leigh — the  Kentish  hills,  led  up  to  by  a  rich  display  of 
timber  in  all  its  verdant  stages. 

John  Hanbury  was  the  only  son  of  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant. His  father  had  given  him  a  liberal  education,  had 
sent  him  to  travel  for  a  couple  of  years,  and  had  been 
delighted  to  find  when  his  son  returned  that  his  heart 
was  still  faithful  to  his  boyish  love,  Grace  Fox,  whose 
aunt  had  married  Mr.  Hanbury's  younger  brother. 

Grace  was  a  great  favourite  with  old  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hanbury,  who,  though  they  strictly  conformed  in  every 
way  to  the  rules  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  had  no  objec- 
tion to  the  more  liberal  notions  of  their  son  and  his  wife. 
Nothing  pleased  the  old  couple  better  than  to  see  gath- 
ered round  their  son's  table  the  best  society  that  part  of 
the  country  afforded,  and  to  be  present  at  any  festivities 
given  at  the  Grange.     So  that  the  house  Captain  Ver- 


142 


DOROTHY   FOX 


schoyle  was  going  to  differed  in  no  respect  from  one 
belonging  to  the  circle  in  which  he  generally  moved,  with 
the  exception  that  it  realised  the  word  home,  and  within 
its  walls  presented  a  picture  of  thorough  domestic  hap- 
piness such  as  it  had  never  before  been  his  good  fortune 
to  witness. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

FRYSTON   GRANGE 

Before  Mrs.  Hanbury  and  Captain  Verschoyle  reached 
the  Grange,  she  had  contrived  to  make  him  know,  with- 
out seeming  to  tell  him,  the  position  her  husband  filled 
as  a  corn  merchant  in  the  city. 

Grace,  of  course,  understood  better  than  Patience  the 
distinction  many  people  made  with  respect  to  position. 
She  knew  that  Captain  Verschoyle  was  aware  her  father 
was  a  tradesman,  and  she  wished  him  to  understand  that 
her  husband  was  also  in  business. 

As  they  approached  the  house  the  trees  attracted  his 
attention,  and,  in  answer  to  his  praise  of  them,  Grace 
said,  "  We  are  very  vain  of  our  trees ;  I  display  them 
with  great  pride  of  heart  to  my  father,  who  always  tries 
to  take  me  down  by  reminding  me  of  that  wonderful  yew 
hedge  they  have  at  King's-heart,  You  went  there,  I 
think?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  never  enjoyed  an  afternoon  more.  What 
a  charming  woman  your  mother  is,  Mrs.  Hanbury!" 

"  She  is,  indeed,"  replied  Grace.  "  I  think  her  the 
sweetest,  most  lovable  woman  in  the  world;  and  Doro- 
thy will  be  wonderfully  like  her.  I  am  but  her  step- 
daughter," she  continued.  "  Not  that  I  believe  her  own 
child  loves  her  better;  and  mingled  with  my  love  is  so 
much  gratitude  for  never  letting  me  forget  my  own 
mother,  and  never  letting  me  remember  that  I  was  moth- 
erless." 

143 


144  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  I  can  quite  fancy  all  that  of  her,"  said  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle.  "  When  my  sister  and  I  saw  her  and  Miss  Fox 
standing  together,  we  thought  they  formed  one  of  the 
most  perfect  pictures  we  had  ever  seen." 

"  Dorothy,  you  know,  is  very  young,  and  from  never 
having  seen  many  strangers,  rather  shy  and  reserved; 
but  she  is  a  dear  child  to  us  who  know  her." 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle. 
"  My  sister,  who  has  a  passion  for  dress,  took  it  seriously 
to  heart  that  Miss  Fox  could  not  be  attired  in  some  very 
recherche  toilette,  which  she  considered  invented  for  her 
particular  style  of  beauty." 

Grace  laughed.  "  I  daresay  you  do  not  think  I  am  a 
Friend,  or  rather  a  Quaker,  as  you  would  term  us.  My 
husband  and  I  consider  the  singularity  of  dress  a  dis- 
tinction no  longer  necessary;  but  my  dear  father  pins 
his  faith  to  a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  coal-scuttle  bonnet, 
and  we  were  terribly  afraid  he  would  insist  on  Dolly 
wearing  one  of  those  frightful  things.  But  he  pretends 
to  look  upon  her  as  still  a  child,  though  I  believe  his 
heart  failed  him  at  the  idea  of  hiding  her  sweet  face 
under  such  a  disguise." 

"  And  yet  how  pretty  she  looks  in  the  plain  dress  she 
wears !" 

"  True ;  but  she  would  look  fifty  times  prettier  in  a 
more  becoming  one.  I  intend  trying  to  induce  them  to 
give  way  a  little  in  that  matter  while  she  is  with  me." 

"  If  you  succeed,  you  must  allow  me  an  opportunity 
of  judging  of  the  effect,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Certainly.    This  is  our  house." 

They  turned  into  the  gates,  and  drove  up  to  the  door. 

"  They  seem  all  to  be  in  the  garden,"  said  Mrs.  Han- 
bury  ;    "  shall  we  go  and  find  them  ?"     And  stepping 


DOROTHY   FOX      .  145 

through  the  library  window,  they  walked  across  the  lawn, 
where,  before  they  had  gone  many  steps,  they  met  Pa- 
tience, who  gave  Captain  Verschoyle  a  warm  greeting. 

"And  where  is  Dorothy?"  asked  Grace. 

"  With  the  children ;  I  left  them  all  romping  together, 
as  I  want  to  write  to  thy  father  by  this  post." 

"  You  must  see  my  children,"  said  Grace,  and  she  and 
Captain  Verschoyle  proceeded  down  a  side  walk  into  a 
sort  of  wilderness,  where  a  sudden  turn  brought  them 
in  front  of  Dorothy  seated  on  the  grass,  while  the  two 
little  girls  adorned  her  hair  with  daisies  and  poppies. 
She  sprang  up  in  great  confusion,  and  before  speaking 
to  Captain  Verschoyle,  began  trying  to  pull  out  the 
flowers. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Dorothy,  please  don't !"  cried  both  the 
children. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  it  is  a  pity, 
for  they  look  so  pretty ;"  and  he  took  her  hand,  holding 
it  for  a  moment.  "  Do  let  them  stay.  Miss  Fox ;  they 
are  really  most  becoming." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  groom  came  to  ask  his  mis- 
tress if  he  was  to  go  for  his  master,  or  if  she  intended 
driving  down  herself. 

Grace  hesitated,  and  Captain  Verschoyle  said,  "You 
are  not  allowing  me  to  detain  you,  Mrs.  Hanbury?" 

"  If  you  do  not  mind,  and  Dolly  will  take  my  place 
and  do  the  honours,  I  think  I  will  go  to  the  station  for 
John.    I  always  like  to  meet  him  if  possible." 

"  Then  I  hope  you  will  not  allow  me  to  keep  you.  If 
Miss  Fox  will  consent  to  take  charge  of  me,  I  will  en- 
deavour to  be  as  obedient  and  docile  as  a " 

"  Friend,"  put  in  Grace,  laughing. 

"  Well,  a  Friend — though  I  intended  to  say  a  lamb." 

"  Synonymous  terms,"  she  cried,  as  she  prepared  to 


146  ,      DOROTHY   FOX 

leave  them,  "And  in  your  case  we  will  transpose  the 
motto,  and  call  you  a  Friend  or  sheep  in  wolves'  cloth- 
ing." 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Doro- 
thy. 

"  Because  thou  art  a  soldier,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
shyly. 

"  Oh,  I  see — of  course,  Quakers  don't  like  fighting. 
Then  do  you  not  like  soldiers,  Miss  Fox?" 

"  We  know  it  is  wrong  to  shed  blood,"  she  repHed, 
looking  very  demure ;  "  and  I  do  not  hold  with  their 
principles." 

"  Neither  do  I,  as  a  rule,"  said  Captairj  Verschoyle, 
smiling  at  the  little  Puritan's  manner ;  "  but  that  is  not 
answering  my  question.  If  a  soldier  hadn't  any  prin- 
ciples, would  you  dislike  him — the  man  himself,  I  mean  ?" 

"  I — I  never  knew  any  before  I  saw  thee ;"  and  Doro- 
thy's brown  eyes  looked  up  with  a  coy  expression  that 
made  Captain  Verschoyle  think  them  fifty  times  more 
lovely  than  before ;  and  he  said, — 

"  Then  am  I  to  understand  that  you  have  based  all  your 
dislike  to  my  profession  on  me  ?" 

This  time  Dorothy  looked  up  with  a  smile,  saying, 
"  I  never  said  I  disliked  thee,  but  I  think  it  is  a  great 
pity  thou  art  a  soldier,  to  fight  with  and  kill  thy  fellow- 
creatures." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  at  all  a  bloodthirsty  warrior,"  laughed 
Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  I  am  a  dreadful  coward ;  indeed, 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  did  not  run  away  whenever  I  saw 
the  Russians  approaching." 

"  Run  away !"  exclaimed  Dorothy,  "  Oh,  I  am  sure 
thou  art  far  too  brave  to  do  that;  none  of  our  soldiers 
ever  ran  away." 

"  But  would  not  that  be  the  right  thing  to  do  ?    You 


DOROTHY   FOX  147 

know  I  shall  not  be  able  to  carry  out  my  character  of 
being  a  Quaker  if  you  do  not  tell  me  how  I  am  to  act." 

"  But  thou  art  not  a  Friend.  Thou  must  not  call  us 
Quakers,"  she  said,  looking  archly  at  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  dropping  her  eyes  suddenly,  making  her  com- 
panion repeat  to  himself,  "  How  lovely  she  is !  It  is  the 
sweetest  face  I  ever  saw ;"  and  with  the  irresistible  desire 
of  making  her  look  up  again  he  said, — 

"  But  if  you  would  try,  you  might  make  me  one.  I  am 
sure  you  must  have  converted  very  many  people." 

What  could  he  mean?  Dorothy  felt  it  was  something 
more  than  his  words  said;  and  in  the  confusion  that 
suddenly  oppressed  her,  she  began  pulling  off  the  leaves 
of  her  geranium,  which,  after  all,  she  had  pinned  (or 
rather  salved  her  conscience  by  allowing  Rosie  to  pin) 
in  her  dress. 

This  pretty  bashfulness,  with  not  a  trace  of  gaiicherie, 
only  increased  Captain  Verschoyle's  admiration.  It  was 
something  entirely  new  to  a  man  who  had  generally  been 
met  half  or  more  than  half  way  on  his  own  ground.  A 
flirtation  with  such  an  entire  novice  had  a  freshness  which 
gave  new  zest  to  the  somewhat  hackneyed  amusement. 
He  felt  himself  entire  master  of  his  own  position,  and 
that  feeling  too  being  new,  he  was  pleased  with  himself, 
and  doubly  pleased  with  his  pupil. 

To  Dorothy's  untutored  ears  his  little  commonplace 
compliments  and  every-day  speeches  sounded  like  some 
sweet  music  which  searched  her  heart,  and  awoke  and 
stirred  up  feelings  which  before  lay  slumbering  and  un- 
heeded. 

"  You  are  spoiling  your  bouquet,"  he  said ;  "  poor 
flowers!  give  them  to  me.  Here  is  a  Marguerite  for 
you  to  try  your  fate  upon.  You  know  the  way,  do  you 
not?" 


148  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  No ;  I  have  seen  a  picture  of  Marguerite  with  a  daisy 
in  her  hand ;  but  I  did  not  know " 

"  What !  not  know,"  he  interrupted,  "  that  she  was 
trying  to  see  how  much  she  was  loved?  Ah,  you  have 
tried  that  often." 

**  Indeed,  I  have  not." 

"  Now,  Miss  Fox,  will  you  look  straight  into  my  face 
and  tell  me,  frankly  and  truly,  to  believe  that  you  were 
never  interested  enough  in  any  one  of  your  devoted  ad- 
mirers to  care  to  what  state  of  desperation  you  had 
driven  them?" 

Poor  Dorothy!  Without  looking  up  she  felt  that  he 
was  looking  fixedly  at  her,  and  that  it  was  impossible 
to  raise  her  eyes  from  the  ground ;  then  a  thought 
rushed  through  her  mind — could  he,  by  any  possibility, 
know  anything  of  Josiah?  And  her  face  crimsoned  at 
the  suspicion. 

"  Ah !"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  I  knew  you  must 
plead  guilty." 

"  No,"  stammered  Dorothy,  trying  to  be  unconcerned 
and  to  treat  it  as  a  joke,  "  I  do  not  plead  guilty."  Then 
raising  her  face  without  looking  at  him,  she  said,  "  I 
never  tried  it,  or  even  heard  of  it  before." 

"  Then  I  will  teach  you.  Hold  the  flower  in  your  own 
hand,  so;  and  now  you  must  think  of  somebody  who 
loves  you.  That  is  very  easy,  is  it  not?  But  you  too 
must  care  a  little,  or  you  will  have  no  anxiety  as  to  the 
result.  Now  give  me  your  hand,  and  pull  off  that  leaf, 
and  say  after  me,  *  He  loves  me,  passionately ;  indiffer- 
ently; not  at  all;*  at  each  sentence  a  leaf,  and  the  last 
leaf  decides  it." 

"  Passionately !"  she  exclaimed,  looking  up  with  a  ra- 
diant face  of  belief. 

"  I  knew  it  would  be  that,"  he  answered. 


DOROTHY   FOX  149 

"  How  couldst  thou  know  ?  Thou — thou  couldst  not 
tell  who  I  meant." 

"  Still  I  knew.  Now  you  will  see  that  mine  will  come 
*  Not  at  all ;'  "  and  he  commenced  pulling  off  the  leaves : 
"  *  Passionately ;'  '  Indifferently ;'  '  Not  at  all ;'  '  Passion- 
ately ;'  '  Indifferently ;'  '  Not  at  all.'  There,  did  I  not  tell 
you  so?" 

"  Oh,  but  they  are  not  true,"  she  cried ;  "  try  another." 

"  No,  I  have  no  need  to  try,  after  what  you  say ;  I 
am  only  too  happy  in  hearing  that  it  is  not  true." 

Before  Dorothy  could  speak,  Grace  and  Mr.  Hanbury 
had  turned  into  the  walk. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  could  not 
imagine  where  you  had  wandered,  and  I  began  to  think 
whether  I  ought  not  to  feel  anxious;  but  John,  who  is 
one  of  those  unpleasantly  matter-of-fact  persons,  calmed 
me  by  the  prosaic  observation  '  that  people  always  found 
their  way  home  about  dinner-time.' " 

Mr.  Hanbury  and  Captain  Verschoyle  shook  hands, 
and  they  all  turned  towards  the  house,  Dorothy  silent, 
and  glad  that  no  one  obliged  her  to  talk. 

Was  she  waking  from  a  dream  that  some  charmed 
tongue  had  lulled  her  into?  Waking  to  the  conscious- 
ness that  she,  Dorothy  Fox,  had  forgotten  her  principles, 
let  slip  her  scruples,  and  laid  entirely  aside  her  maidenly 
reserve ;  towards  whom  ?  for  what  ?  Towards  a  stranger, 
a — a  soldier ;  for  vainly  did  she  pretend  that  no  name  was 
in  her  thoughts  when  she  pulled  the  leaves  off  the  flower. 
She  resolved  to  hold  more  guard  over  herself,  and  to  re- 
member the  testimony  she  was  called  upon  to  bear.  But 
before  she  had  finished  rearranging  her  dress  she  was  re- 
calling each  word  that  Charles  Verschoyle  had  said,  and 
as  she  stood  regarding  herself  critically  in  the  glass  she 
wondered  if  he  liked  people  with  fair  hair.     She  hoped 


ISO  DOROTHY   FOX 

so ;  and  then  a  prick  of  conscience  made  her  turn  away, 
until  she  soothed  herself  by  thinking,  why  need  she  be 
so  troubled?  perhaps,  after  to-day,  she  should  never  see 
him  again;  and  at  the  thought  she  gave  an  involuntary 
sigh. 

By  the  time  John  Hanbury  and  Captain  Verschoyle 
arose  from  the  dinner-table  to  join  the  ladies,  each  man 
had  said  to  himself  of  the  other,  "  This  is  the  nicest  fel- 
low I  have  met  with  for  some  time." 

Charles  Verschoyle  was  not  a  brilliantly  clever  man, 
but  he  was  a  thoroughly  companionable  one,  with  a  na- 
ture ready  and  able  to  appreciate  frank,  straightforward 
John  Hanbury. 

When  they  entered  the  drawing-room  Mrs.  Hanbury 
was  playing  some  of  the  "  Lieder  ohne  Worte"  to  her 
mother  and  sister. 

"  Don't  stop,  Grace,"  said  her  husband,  going  up  to 
the  piano;  I  daresay  Captain  Verschoyle  will  not  ob- 
ject to  a  httle  music." 

Captain  Verschoyle  expressed  his  great  love  for  music, 
stopped  to  hear  Mrs.  Hanbury  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  sauntered  over  to  the  place  he  had  fixed  upon  when 
he  first  came  in — the  chair  next  to  Dorothy. 

"  You  play,  of  course.  Miss  Fox,  and  sing,  I  know, 
like  a  nightingale." 

"  No,  I  have  never  learnt,"  she  answered. 

"  Never  learnt !  Why,  how  is  that  ?  I  thought  learn- 
ing the  piano  was  considered  as  necessary  for  young 
ladies  as  learning  to  read  and  write." 

"  Father  does  not  approve  of  music." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Grace,  "  that  /  never  learnt  until 
after  I  was  married?  John  taught  me  my  notes.  I 
verily  believe  our  most  serious  quarrels  were  over  those 
minims  and  crotchets," 


DOROTHY   FOX  151 

"Ah,  thou  wast  very  stupid,"  said  Mr.  Hanbury. 

"  Thou  wert  very  impatient,  and  would  vex  me  by 
making  me  learn  scales  instead  of  tunes.  I  wish  father 
would  let  you  learn,  Dolly;  you  used  to  have  a  capital 
voice." 

"  I  wish  so  too,"  replied  Dorothy.  "  Mother  begged 
for  it,"  she  added,  turning  to  Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  she 
does  not  condemn  music." 

"  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.  What  a  sweet  woman  your 
mother  is,  Miss  Fox !  I  am  quite  in  love  with  her.  You 
are  wonderfully  like  her." 

The  inflection  in  his  voice  made  Dorothy's  heart  beat, 
but  she  determined  to  conquer  this  time,  so  she  an- 
swered, "  There  is  nobody  in  the  world  like  mother.  I 
was  so  amused  when  thou  mistook  Judith  for  her,  but 
Judith  was  quite  angry  with  thee." 

"  And  well  she  might  be.  I  cannot  fancy  what  induced 
me  to  commit  such  a  stupid  blunder." 

"  Oh,  no !    it  was  not  stupid ;    we  all  love  dear  old 

Judith,  but  mother "  and  she  stopped,  her  sweet  eyes 

expressing  the  love  it  seemed  impossible  to  speak  of. 

"  What  will  you  do  when  you  leave  her  ?"  said  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle,  asking  the  first  question  that  came  up- 
permost, in  his  desire  that  the  lovely  face  should  not  be 
turned  away  from  him. 

"  Leave  her!"  she  repeated;  "  what  dost  thou  mean?" 

"  I  mean  when  you  are  married.  You  intend  to  marry 
some  day,  do  you  not  ?" 

Again  the  vexed  feeling  took  possession  of  Dorothy 
that  he  had  heard  something  of  Josiah  Crewdson. 

"  I — I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

*'  But  /  know ;  and  who,  I  wonder,  will  be — or  per- 
haps is — the  enviable  man  fortunate  enough  to  secure 
your  love?" 


152  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Nobody !"  eried  Dorothy  defiantly ;  "  I  do  not  care 
for  any  one,  nor  shall  I." 

"  Hush,  hush !"  laughed  Captain  Verschoyle,  amused 
at  her  earnestness ;  "  don't  let  me  hear  such  treason. 
Here  is  Miss  Fox,"  he  said,  turning  to  Grace,  who  had 
joined  them,  "  declaring  she  never  intends  marrying  for 
love.  I  tell  her  it  is  too  cruel  to  announce  her  decision. 
Notwithstanding,  we  know  by  sad  experience  that  women 
have  struck  against  being  troubled  with  hearts  in  our 
day." 

"  Captain  Verschoyle !"  exclaimed  Grace,  affecting  to 
be  horrified  by  his  remark ;  "  oh,  this  is  a  stigma  we 
will  not  sit  calmly  under!  Come,  mother,  come,  Dolly, 
let  us  combine  our  forces  and  defend  our  woman's 
nature." 

"  Vain,  utterly  vain,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hanbury ;  for  has 
it  not  been  proclaimed  in  every  matrimonial  market-place 
throughout  the  land  that  the  god  of  Love  is  dethroned 
and  the  god  of  Riches  reigneth  in  his  stead?" 

"  And  yet,"  said  Patience,  "  you  will  find  that  as  of 
old,  so  now  there  remain  still,  thousands  who  have  not 
*  bowed  the  knee  to  Baal.'  " 

"  What  you  say  may  be  true,  Mrs.  Fox,"  replied  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle,  laughing,  "  but  I  only  wish  you  would 
tell  me  where  to  find  these  idealistic  young  ladies,  willing 
to  share  our  joys  and  sorrows,  and  our  small  incomes." 

"  Where !"  exclaimed  Grace ;  "  why,  every  nice  girl 
you  meet  would  do  so  for  the  man  she  loves.  You  know 
it  is  all  very  well  putting  it  upon  us  women,  but  when  a 
man  says,  *  I  cannot  ask  her  to  give  this  up  for  me,'  is  it 
not  the  echo  of  '  I  cannot  give  it  up  for  her  ?'  Of  course, 
I  do  not  mean  that  a  man  without  an  income,  or  any 
prospect  of  making  one,  is  to  ask  a  girl  to  share  nothing 
because  they  love  each  other;  no  honourable  man  would 


DOROTHY   FOX  153 

do  that.  What  I  condemn  is  the  name  of  wife  and  help- 
mate being  separated.  Don't  you  think  that  two  people 
will  love  each  other  better,  and  be  more  to  each  other  at 
the  end  of  five  or  ten  years,  struggling  together,  than  if 
they  had  lived  apart,  discontented  and  rebelling  against 
Providence  for  not  being  kinder  to  them?  Eventually 
they  marry,  but  by  this  time  perhaps  they  have  ceased  to 
be  necessary  to  each  other.  At  all  events,  the  wife  will 
have  lost  some  of  the  sweetest  memories  a  woman  can 
recall,  in  having  lessened  the  anxieties  and  eased  the 
cares  of  the  man  she  loves." 

"  Spoken  like  an  oracle,  Grace,"  said  John  Hanbury. 
"  Should  business  fail,  thou  shalt  go  about  advocating 
the  rights  of  women." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  our  rights,"  she  answered. 
"  I  take  our  position  from  what  we  were  created  for, 
and  therefore  what  to  the  best  of  our  abilities  we  ought 
to  fulfil.  *  God  said.  It  is  not  good  that  man  should  be 
alone,  I  will  make  him  an  helpmeet  for  him,'  and  He 
made  woman.  I  am  quite  contented  with  that.  Educate 
us  well,  and  so  completely  that  we  are  fit  to  be  com- 
panions, confidants,  and  advisers  to  our  men;  but  de- 
fend us  from  being  fellow-students,  rivals  in  examina- 
tions, and  compeers  in  professions." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  thee,  Grace,"  said  Patience, 
"  From  that  day  which  sees  woman's  (so-called)  rights 
established,  her  influence  will  decline." 

Captain  Verschoyle  gave  a  comically  rueful  look  as 
he  exclaimed  with  a  sigh,  "  Well,  all  I  know  is  I  wish 
some  nice  girl  would  only  fall  in  love  with  me.  I  am 
sure  she  would  turn  me  into  an  awfully  nice  fellow. 
There,"  he  continued,  "  is  Miss  Fox  smiling  at  such  an 
idea.    You  think  the  thing  impossible,  do  you  not?" 

"  Yes,    rather,"    she    answered,    responding    to    her 


154  DOROTHY   FOX 

thoughts,  and  not  thinking  how  her  reply  might  be 
taken. 

"  That's  right,  Dorothy.  Uphold  your  principles  by 
always  speaking  your  mind,"  said  John  Hanbury,  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Oh,  but,  John,  thou  must  not — I  meant " 

"  No,  no,  never  mind !"  replied  Mr.  Hanbury ;  "  let 
Captain  Verschoyle  read  it  his  own  way;  for  you  and  I 
have  read  of  the  pride  that  apes  humility,  have  we  not, 
little  Dolly  ?  and  we  have  heard  of  '  Early  to  bed  and 
early  to  rise,'  and  not  only  so,  but  we  are  told  *  to  prac- 
tise what  we  know.' " 

"  That  is  a  shabby  sort  of  way  of  informing  us  that 
thou  art  tired,  John  Hanbury,"  said  Grace,  rising.  "  Will 
nine  o'clock  be  too  early  for  you.  Captain  Verschoyle?" 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  Then  good-night." 

"  Fare  thee  well,"  said  Patience. 

"  Good-night,  Mrs.  Fox ;  good-night.  Miss  Fox ;  in 
order  that  you  may  sleep  peacefully  I  will  try  and  for- 
give you  that  thrust  at  me,  although  my  vanity  will,  I 
fear,  never  recover  the  terrible  blows  it  has  received 
to-day." 

Dorothy  coloured.  "  Thou  hast  nothing  to  forgive," 
she  answered,  "  because  thou  did  not  understand  what 
I  meant." 

"  Oh,  very  well !  Then  I  shall  expect  a  further  expla- 
nation.   Good-night." 

The  next  morning,  before  Captain  Verschoyle  left  Fry- 
ston  Grange,  it  was  arranged  that  on  his  return  to  town 
he  should  pay  the  Hanburys  another  visit.  Dorothy  and 
Grace  went  as  far  as  the  station  with  him,  and  while  Mr. 
Hanbury  was  receiving  some  household  commission  from 
Grace,  Captain  Verschoyle  said,  "  Miss  Fox,  you  must 


DOROTHY   FOX  155 

not  run  away  before  I  come  again.  Remember,  I  have 
not  had  that  explanation  yet." 

"  Thou  must  please  promise  me  to  forget  it,"  she  an- 
swered, gravely. 

"  So  I  will,  if" — and  he  paused  until  Dorothy  looked 
up  inquiringly — "  thou  wilt  promise  not  to  forget  me." 

The  whistle  of  the  train  sounded ;  there  was  only  time 
to  jump  in.  "  Good-bye,"  "  Good-bye,"  a  wave  of  the 
hand,  and  Captain  Verschoyle  and  John  Hanbury  were 
on  their  road  to  London. 

Grace  and  Dorothy  reseated  themselves  in  the  pony 
carriage,  and  were  very  near  home,  when  the  former 
said, — 

"  Why,  surely,  my  Dolly  has  lost  her  tongue.  What 
is  the  child  thinking  of?" 

"  Thinking  of !"  echoed  Dorothy — "  me — oh,  I  do  not 
know." 

Then,  fearing  that  speech  did  not  entirely  agree  with 
her  principles  always  to  speak  the  plain  truth,  she  said, 
as  fresh  colour  mounted  to  her  cheeks,  "  At  least,  I  do 
know ;  I  was  thinking  of  Charles  Verschoyle." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   PICNIC   AT   DYNE   COURT 

On  the  fifth  morning  after  Captain  Verschoyle  left 
Dyne  Court,  Mr.  Ford  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  the 
breakfast  table.  His  man  came  to  say  his  master  was  not 
quite  well,  and  would  be  glad  if  Mr.  Dynecourt  would  go 
to  him  when  it  was  convenient  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Dynecourt  found  the  old  gentleman  threatened 
with  an  attack  of  bronchitis.  "  Mr.  Dynecourt,"  he  said, 
"  I  sent  to  ask  you  to  do  me  a  favour,  that  is,  while  I  am 
detained  in  my  own  apartment,  will  you  act  in  my  place, 
just  consider  our  friends  your  guests,  see  they  have  all 
they  want,  and  that  they  are  happy  and  comfortable?  I 
daresay  I  shall  be  all  right  in  a  couple  of  days,  and  in  the 
mean  time  you  must  ask  the  ladies  to  pay  me  a  charitable 
visit  here,  and  cheer  me  up  a  little." 

Mr.  Dynecourt  consented,  sat  and  chatted  with  Mr. 
Ford,  and  then,  at  his  desire,  went  to  look  after  the  ar- 
rangements made  for  the  day's  amusement.  Another  pic- 
nic had  been  decided  upon,  and  Mr.  Ford  would  not  hear 
of  its  being  put  off  on  his  account.  "  And  be  sure,"  he 
said,  "  that  you  look  after  my  favourite.  Miss  Audrey, 
and  see  she  does  not  overexert  herself;  we  allowed  her 
to  do  too  much  last  time." 

Each  one  was  both  concerned  and  sorry  to  hear  of  their 

host's  indisposition;   but  Dr.  Morcambe  assured  them  it 

was  nothing;   only,  with  Mr.  Ford's  experience  of  how 

much  depended  on  primary  caution,  he  was  acting  most 

156 


DOROTHY   FOX  157 

prudently,  and  the  result  would  be  seen  by  his  joining 
them  in  a  few  days. 

Lady  Laura  had  intended  doing  violence  to  her  feelings 
by  forming  one  of  the  party,  that  she  might  look  after  her 
son's  interest,  and  not  permit  any  tete-a-tete  between  Miss 
Bingham  and  Mr.  Dynecourt.  Now  her  plans  were  sud- 
denly altered,  for,  of  course,  she  must  stay  with  Mr.  Ford. 
"  I  shall  read  the  paper  to  him,"  she  thought,  "  and  talk 
about  Audrey."  By  the  way,  she  must  go  and  see  him 
before  they  set  off.  "  How  provoking  of  Charles  to  leave 
just  at  this  time,  completely  throwing  that  girl  at  Mr. 
Dynecourt!  Audrey  must  contrive  to  keep  them  apart, 
secure  his  attentions,  and  leave  Miss  Bingham  to  the 
curate ;  no  harm  can  come  of  that,  for  the  man  has  not  a 
word  to  say  for  himself  out  of  the  pulpit." 

Thus  decided,  her  ladyship  proceeded  to  her  daugh- 
ter's room,  and  found  her  arraying  herself  in  the  muslin 
dress  that  on  the  former  occasion  she  had  refused  to 
wear. 

"  That  is  right,  my  dear ;  that  dress  is  quite  nice  enough 
for  now.  You  must  go  and  see  Mr.  Ford  before  you  start. 
I  think  I  will  go  up,  and  say  you  are  so  concerned  you 
wanted  to  stay  at  home,  but  I  knew  he  would  be  uneasy 
at  depriving  you  of  any  enjoyment;  or,  perhaps,  you 
had  better  say  it  yourself.  Of  course,  you  will  offer 
to  remain,  though  you  need  not  do  so  really,  because 
I  think  it  will  be  better  for  me  to  have  a  quiet  day  with 
him." 

"  I  shall  not  only  offer  to  remain,  but  I  shall  willingly 
do  so,  if  it  gives  Mr.  Ford  any  pleasure,"  returned  Au- 
drey. "  I  am  going  up  now  to  sit  with  him  until  it  be  time 
for  us  to  go." 

"  Then,  after  you  have  paid  your  visit,  I  will  pay  mine. 
I  hope  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  you  to  remain  at 


158  DOROTHY   FOX 

home,  as  I  believe  I  could  do  much  more  by  bearing  him 
company ;  and,  Audrey,  just  see  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  does 
not  take  possession  of  Miss  Bingham.  If  you  can  manage 
it,  secure  him  for  yourself;  if  not,  join  them  whenever 
you  see  him  attempt  to  stroll  off  with  her.  Charles  may 
never  have  another  such  opportunity,  and,  though  from 
his  obstinate  stupidity  he  deserves  to  lose  her,  it  would  be 
a  great  annoyance  to  me." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  her  daughter,  "  then  I  am  to  sacri- 
fice myself,  and  engage  the  companionship  of  Mr.  Dyne- 
court  as  much  as  in  me  lies." 

"  Exactly  so.  You  need  not  put  yourself  out  of  the  way 
to  make  yourself  agreeable." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Audrey.  "  Do  not  fear ;  I  will 
endeavour  to  place  the  young  man  and  myself  on  a  proper 
footing." 

She  went  off  smiling  to  herself,  and  knocking  at  the 
door  of  Mr.  Ford's  private  sitting-room,  demanded  ad- 
mission. 

"  Now,  this  is  very  kind  of  you,  my  dear  young  lady, 
not  to  stand  on  ceremony,  but  come  up  like  an  old  friend." 

"  I  want  to  know  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you,"  said 
Audrey.  "  Will  you  let  me  stay  and  read  to  you  ?  I 
have  had  very  little  experience,  but  I  think  I  can  promise 
to  do  as  much  nursing  as  you  require." 

"  What !  and  deprive  everybody  else  of  the  pleasure  of 
your  company !  Why,  I  should  never  dare  to  meet  their 
angry  faces  again.  No,  no;  you  go  and  help  my  friend 
Dynecourt  in  entertaining  the  rest,  and  then  I  shall  rest 
contented,  being  certain  all  is  going  on  well," 

"  Mamma  is  coming  to  offer  herself  as  a  companion," 
said  Audrey.  "  You  know  she  does  not  care  for  pic- 
nics." 

"  If  I  am  not  depriving  her  of  enjoyment,  I  shall  be 


DOROTHY   FOX  159 

delighted  to  see  her;  and  when  you  come  back  you  will 
tell  me  of  all  you  have  seen  and  done  ?" 

"May  I  come  and  make  tea  for  you?"  said  Audrey; 
"  or  would  it  be  too  much  worry  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  only  stay  up  here  to  secure  myself 
against  draughts,  and  talking  too  much ;  but  if  you  will 
promise  to  come  and  see  me,  I  shall  look  forward  to  a 
pleasant  evening." 

After  a  little  time  she  bade  him  good-bye ;  went  down 
and  told  her  mother  Mr.  Ford  would  be  pleased  to  see 
her,  adding,  "  I  am  going  to  make  tea,  and  spend  the 
evening  with  him,  and  give  him  an  account  of  our  day." 

Lady  Laura  was  delighted.  "  Nothing  could  be  bet- 
ter. It  is  just  what  I  should  have  managed  myself. 
Really,  Audrey,  you  have  a  great  deal  of  me  in  you." 

Audrey  checked  the  answer  she  was  prompted  to  re- 
turn, bidding  her  mother  adieu  at  once,  that  she  might 
not  be  tempted  to  give  vent  to  a  little  sarcasm  which  she 
found  hard  to  repress. 

Miss  Verschoyle  rendered  such  strict  obedience  to  her 
mother's  wishes,  that  she  and  Mr.  Dynecourt  were  com- 
panions the  whole  day  long.  Mrs.  Winterton,  Miss  Tre- 
fusis,  and  the  General  had  arranged  a  wonderful  botani- 
cal search.  Miss  Bingham  and  the  Rev.  Robert  Kirby 
(whose  loquacity  would  have  disgusted  Lady  Laura)  fol- 
lowed their  example,  and,  they  said,  their  footsteps,  but 
the  fates  did  not  permit  them  to  meet — a  circumstance 
which  did  not  seem  to  affect  their  enjoyment  in  the  least. 
On  this  occasion  they  were  all  pedestrians,  and  certainly, 
from  the  time  after  luncheon  when  they  separated  and 
divided  themselves  into  three  sets,  each  had  but  a  very 
hazy  notion  of  the  other's  movements. 

To  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  the  day  sped  swiftly.  At  first 
he  would  not  question  himself  too  closely  as  to  what  this 


i6o  DOROTHY   FOX 

new,  delicious  feeling  might  be — not  deep  enough  yet  to 
be  distracted  by  doubts,  or  tormented  by  fears.  He  only 
knew,  wherever  she  was  he  was  content  to  be.  He  could 
listen  to  her,  talk  to  her,  and,  at  the  end  of  hours  spent 
together,  he  only  sighed  when  the  time  for  him  to  leave 
her  drew  nigh.  Constantly  he  wondered  whether  she 
shared  in  these  impressions.  He  knew  she  always  met 
him  with  a  smile  of  welcome,  seemed  pleased  when  he 
joined  her,  sorry  when  they  parted,  and,  in  many  a 
soft  look  from  those  wonderful  eyes,  showed  her  in- 
terest and  sympathy.  In  imagination  he  clothed  her 
with  every  grace ;  every  pure  and  noble  feeling  a  woman 
could  possess  he  freely  granted  her.  He  seemed  to  have 
placed  her  in  the  sanctuary  of  his  heart,  and  dared  not, 
even  in  thought,  approach  nearer  her  than  the  outer 
courts,  where  he  could  gaze  upon  her  image. 

Incapable  of  disguise  where  his  feelings  were  con- 
cerned, Audrey  soon  noticed  the  almost  reverential  man- 
ner he  at  times  assumed  towards  her,  and,  instead  of 
laughing  to  scorn  the  good  he  imputed  to  her,  she  felt  a 
strange  wish  that  he  might  not  be  undeceived.  She  said 
to  herself  that  she  wanted  him  to  think  well  of  her,  and 
she  tried  in  every  way  to  strengthen  the  impression,  until 
Geoffrey  Dynecourt  felt  himself  hourly  becoming  more 
intoxicated  by  her  witchery. 

Could  it  be  that  she  felt  the  same  influence?  If  not, 
why  did  her  eyes  soften  when  they  met  his,  and  her  voice 
sink  as  if  its  tones  were  tuned  for  his  ears  alone?  Oh, 
she  had  given  him  signs  that,  unless  love  had  prompted 
her,  would  never  have  been  visible  from  one  so  proud,  so 
noble,  so  far  exalted  above  any  dream  he  had  ever  before 
formed  of  womankind. 

The  whole  of  that  day  Audrey  had  been  thoroughly 
herself;  devoid  of  all  arts,  save  such  as  were  natural  to 


DOROTHY   FOX  i6i 

a  girl  who  desired  to  please.  That  desire  seemed  to 
spring  from  an  entirely  new  impulse. 

"  What  a  happy  day  I  have  spent !"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Dynecourt. 

"  And  yet  you  are  sighing,"  said  Audrey,  in  her  soft 
voice. 

"  Yes :  sighing  because  it  is  over.  Are  you  not  sorry 
when  a  great  pleasure  comes  to  an  end?" 

"  Has  it  been  a  great  pleasure  ?"  she  asked.  "  Last  time 
you  would  not  go  with  us." 

"  Last  time  you  went,  remember  how  little  I  knew  of 
you." 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  very  good,  but  I  only  know  your  stay- 
ing away  made  me  cross." 

"  And  now,  would  you  care  if  I  stayed  away  ?" 

Audrey  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  then  she  in- 
tended giving  some  laughing  reply;  but,  when  she  met 
his  eager  gaze,  she  gave  him  a  long  look  of  loving  re- 
proach, and  the  quick  blood  mounted  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  Audrey  1    Miss  Verschoyle !" 

But,  before  he  could  say  more,  she  exclaimed,  "  There 
is  Miss  Bingham !  I  am  so  glad  we  have  met  them.  Let 
us  hurry  on  that  we  may  return  together  respectably, 
after  having  lost  our  chaperons." 

Miss  Bingham  (who  had  a  little  wholesome  dread  of 
her  aunt)  said,  "  We  will  not  say  we  have  only  just  met." 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Audrey ;  for  from  the  terrace 
Lady  Laura  advanced  to  meet  them  smiling  delightfully, 
and  kissing  her  daughter  in  acknowledgment  of  the  visi- 
ble obedience  with  which  she  had  followed  out  her  in- 
structions. 

"  And  have  you  had  a  pleasant  day,  rriy  dears  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  charming  day !"  exclaimed  Miss  Bingham. 

Audrey  and  Mr.  Kirby  expressed  the  pleasure  each  had 

II 


i62  DOROTHY   FOX 

enjoyed.  Only  Mr.  Dynecourt  was  silent.  He  could  not 
make  out  Audrey's  manner;  the  evident  wish  to  hurry 
on  and  join  the  others;  the  sudden  change  from  the  low 
soft  tone,  which  spoke  more  than  the  words  she  said,  to 
one  of  raillery  and  banter.  Why  should  she  laugh  at 
Miss  Bingham,  tease  Mr.  Kirby,  and  pretend  all  the  time 
they  had  been  absent  Mr.  Dynecourt  had  been  most 
anxious  about  them?  It  jarred  on  him,  until  he  won- 
dered what  it  could  mean.  It  fell  like  a  cloud  over  the 
past,  and  he  seemed  to  discover  the  first  trail  of  the  ser- 
pent in  the  Eden  of  his  love. 

"  Just  as  I  expected,"  thought  Lady  Laura ;  "  he  is 
annoyed  at  having  been  kept  from  Miss  Bingham  all  day. 
If  I  had  not  foreseen  this,  there  is  no  knowing  what  mis- 
chief might  have  been  done ;  for  I  have  no  doubt,  in  her 
heart  the  girl  is  a  little  piqued  at  Charles  leaving;  and, 
of  course,  his  rival  would  make  stock  out  of  that  piece 
of  stupidity.  Nobody  could  believe  a  son  of  mine  would 
do  such  a  thing." 

As  she  looked  up  to  say  something  more,  she  noticed 
Audrey  turn  round,  and  seemingly  (for  they  were  too 
far  off  for  her  to  hear)  ask  for  some  flowers  Mr.  Dyne- 
court was  carrying.  He  gave  them  to  her,  and  then  she 
returned  a  few  sprays  of  the  heather  to  him,  which  he 
received  with  a  somewhat  stiff  bow. 

"  The  bear !"  said  Lady  Laura,  as  she  dropped  her  eye- 
glass ;  "  he  evidently  cannot  control  his  temper,  and  is 
stupid  enough  to  show  his  mortification.  Well !  I  am  not 
surprised ;  for  I  fancied  he  was  not  overstocked  with 
sense  when  I  heard  some  Quixotish  tale  of  his  giving  up 
his  property  to  pay  the  debts,  as  if  he  could  not  go  on  as 
his  ancestors  had  done." 

Marshall,  as  she  dressed  her  young  lady,  speculated 
upon  what  had  gone  wrong  at  the  picnic :  generally  Miss 


DOROTHY   FOX  163 

Verschoyle  gave  her  the  benefit  of  her  triumphs  and  dis- 
appointments, in  both  of  which  Marshall  sympathised 
or  exulted. 

"  I  shall  not  wear  any  ornaments  to-night,  Marshall ; — 
put  some  of  that  heather  in  my  hair,  and  give  me  a  bunch 
of  it  to  fasten  here.    That  will  do." 

"A  red  rose  would  look  much  better  with  this  white 
dress.  Miss ;  heather  does  not  show  any  colour  at  night." 

"  Never  mind — do  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Oh !  you  are  dressed,"  said  Lady  Laura,  opening  the 
door.  "  Then  go  and  arrange  my  toilette,  Marshall.  I 
will  come  to  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

As  soon  as  the  maid  had  departed.  Lady  Laura  began 
her  questioning,  confiding  to  her  daughter  how  necessary 
her  caution  had  been ; — "  for  I  never  saw  more  evident 
displeasure  than  Mr.  Dynecourt  displayed." 

"  About  what  ?"  said  Audrey. 

"  Why,  at  your  not  allowing  him  to  walk  with  Miss 
Bingham.    Did  he  contrive  to  be  alone  with  her  much  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  he  spoke  to  her  unless  I  was 
present." 

"  Excellent !  You  are  getting  to  be  quite  a  diplomatist, 
Audrey." 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  should  only  discover  my  talent 
when  I  have  no  further  need  of  it !" 

"  How  do  you  mean,  my  dear — no  further  need  for 
it?" 

"  Why,  surely,  if  I  marry  this  rich  man,  I  shall  be  able 
to  afford  to  be  as  straightforwardly  frank  and  unpleas- 
antly candid  as  I  please ;  there  will  be  no  need  for  deceit 
or  fourberie  then." 

"  My  dear,  don't  speak  of  Mr.  Ford  as  '  this  rich  man ;' 
it  does  not  matter  with  me,  of  course,  but  it  is  a  bad  habit 
to  get  into." 


i64  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Oh !  is  it  ?  I  thought  you  honoured  people  by 
naming  what  you  valued  them  for." 

Lady  Laura  fancied  from  her  daughter's  tone  a  dis- 
cussion had  best  be  avoided ;  so  she  said, — 

"  I  have  not  seen  much  of  Mr.  Ford  alone ;  for  Dr. 
Morcambe  stayed  to  luncheon,  and  after  that  he  had 
letters  to  write.  He  seems  to  be  very  much  better,  though. 
One  thing  I  discovered — he  has  no  relations,  except  dis- 
tant cousins;  so,  of  course,  his  estates  would  be  left  to 
his  wife,  if  he  died  without  children." 

"Did  he  say  so?" 

"  Now,  my  dear  Audrey,  is  it  likely  I  should  speak  on 
such  a  subject  to  him?  I  was  thinking,  perhaps  you  had 
better  be  rather  delightful  to  Mr.  Dynecourt,  because 
through  him  you  will  easily  get  to  know  all  the  desirable 
people  in  the  neighbourhood." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  You  know,"  she  added,  in 
a  tone  of  sarcasm,  "  that  he  has  lost  all  his  money,  and 
calls  himself  a  beggar?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  don't  want  you  to  make  a  great  friend  of 
him ;  still,  he  might  be  of  service." 

"  Then  you  may  depend  upon  my  cultivating  him ;  but, 
remember,  I  consider  you  responsible  for  all  that  may 
come  of  it." 

"  Why,  what  could  come  of  it,  Audrey  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  tell :  such  very  odd  things  happen  some- 
times to  penniless  people.  Though  when  they  belong  to 
the  creme  de  la  crane,  they  have  no  excuse  for  not  be- 
having better." 

"  My  dear  Audrey,  you  are  very  odd  this  evening.  Are 
your  spirits  depressed?  You  had  better  have  a  little  sal- 
volatile.  I  shall  send  Marshall  with  some ;  for  there  goes 
the  first  dinner-bell,  and  I  have  to  dress." 

Miss  Verschoyle  did  not  join  the  ladies.    After  dinner. 


DOROTHY   FOX  165 

she  sat  alone  in  her  own  room,  rather  puzzled  as  to  how 
she  had  displeased  Mr.  Dynecourt;  for  she  saw  some- 
thing had  gone  wrong.  Though  she  wore  the  heather 
they  had  picked,  he  mounted  none;  and  she  had  given 
him  a  spray  expressly  for  that  purpose.  She  had  a  great 
mind  to  take  hers  out  of  her  dress  and  not  wear  it  any 
longer ;  and  then  she  smiled  to  think  her  tact  was  rather 
at  fault. 

But  the  smile  soon  died  away,  and  she  got  up,  and 
resolutely  ended  her  reverie  by  proceeding  at  once  to 
Mr.  Ford's  apartments.  He  was  sitting  in  readiness  for 
her ;  and  Audrey,  knowing  the  most  certain  way  to  insure 
his  being  amused  was  to  get  him  on  his  favourite  topic, 
after  she  had  told  him  how  far  they  had  walked,  where 
they  had  taken  luncheon,  and  how  sorry  every  one  was 
at  his  absence,  began  asking  him  the  history  of  an  old 
church  in  the  neighbourhood,  which  Mr.  Dynecourt  had 
mentioned  to  her. 

This  involved  sending  for  several  books,  getting  some 
photographs,  &c.,  until  tea  arrived,  and  Audrey  sat  down 
to  make  it. 

Just  then  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Dyne- 
court presented  himself. 

"  The  very  man  I  wanted  to  see,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ford. 
"  Now,  Miss  Verschoyle,  what  do  you  say  to  my  inviting 
him  to  join  us  '  in  the  cup  that  cheers,  but  not  inebriates?' 
Have  I  your  permission?" 

"  Most  certainly,"  she  returned,  politely. 

"  Oh,  I  came  with  a  message  from  Lady  Laura  to  Miss 
Verschoyle,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  hesitatingly;  "but 
when  I  have  taken  back  the  answer,  if  you  will  permit 
me  to  return,  I  shall  be  so  delighted ;"  and  he  looked  ap- 
pealingly  at  Audrey  for  a  little  further  invitation. 

During  her  absence,  all  his  annoyance  had  vanished, 


i66  DOROTHY   FOX 

and  he  was  now  alternately  blaming  his  bad  temper,  and 
wondering  why  it  had  been  aroused.  Because  she  had 
suddenly  changed  her  manner,  he  had  become  irritable 
and  unreasonable.  Now  he  longed  to  see  her,  to  show 
her  his  penitence.  What  an  ill-mannered  brute  she  must 
think  him!  She  would  be  disgusted  with  him,  and  per- 
haps think  no  more  of  him. 

Thus  exaggerating  his  offence  as  he  had  hers,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  drawing-room.  As  he  feared,  she  was  not 
there;  but,  fortunately  for  him,  Mr.  Kirby  had  been 
obliged  to  leave,  and  Miss  Bingham  was  sitting  alone. 
She  beckoned  him  at  once  to  her  side  to  ask  him  if  Gen- 
eral Trefusis  had  made  any  comments  on  their  losing  his 
party. 

To  prevent  the  conversation  reaching  Mrs.  Winterton's 
ears,  it  was  carried  on  nearly  in  a  whisper ;  so  that  when 
Lady  Laura  entered  the  room,  the  first  thing  she  noticed 
was  the  two  heads  in  alarmingly  close  proximity,  and  her 
fears  were  further  aroused  by  Miss  Bingham  getting  very 
red  as  her  ladyship  came  suddenly  upon  them. 

"You  are  looking  so  tired,  love,  don't  you  think  you 
would  be  wise  to  come  and  sit  in  this  nice  easy-chair?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  Lady  Laura ;  this  ottoman  is  very 
comfortable,  and  I  am  not  tired." 

Lady  Laura  said  no  more.  She  sat  down  by  Miss 
Trefusis,  and  began  telling  her  of  some  wonderful  ferns 
her  cousin,  Lady  Honoria  Camden,  had  collected.  Still 
she  kept  her  eyes  on  the  two  delinquents,  who  again  set- 
tled into  their  tete-cl-tete. 

Miss  Trefusis  explained  some  peculiar  mode  of  rearing 
ferns  an  uncle  of  hers  had  adopted;  and  when  Lady 
Laura  exclaimed,  *'  Now,  you  must  tell  me  all  that  over 
again ;  for  I  shall  write  every  word  of  it  to  Honoria  to- 
morrow/' she  naturally  supposed  that  her  ladyship  was 


DOROTHY   FOX  167 

immensely  interested.  So  she  was  in  manner;  but  her 
thoughts  were  concentrated  on  the  couple  opposite. 

"  I  can  see  he  does  not  want  to  be  interrupted,  by  the 
anxious  way  he  keeps  looking  at  the  door,"  she  thought ; 
"  and  I  do  not  like  to  see  her  so  very  talkative  and  con- 
fidential." Miss  Bingham's  story  of  how  she  nearly 
tumbled  into  the  brook  from  an  immense  stone  turning 
over,  and  how  Mr.  Kirby  sprang  to  her  assistance,  fell 
on  the  ears  of  a  listener  as  deaf  to  her  tale  as  Lady  Laura 
was  to  the  explanations  of  Miss  Trefusis. 

All  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  could  think  of  was,  whether 
Audrey  would  come  down  before  she  went  to  Mr.  Ford, 
and,  as  he  was  almost  certain  she  must  have  gone  to  him 
by  this  time,  what  possible  pretext  he  could  find  for  join- 
ing her. 

Imagine  then  his  joy  when  Lady  Laura  suddenly  broke 
in  upon  her  narrator,  by  saying,  "  But  will  that  mode 
apply  to  all  ferns  ?  Would  it  suit  the — the — dear  me !  I 
have  forgotten  the  name,  that  beautiful  tall  spreading  one. 
What  can  its  name  be?  how  stupid  I  am !" 

"  Oh !  it  suits  them  all,"  returned  Miss  Trefusis. 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  I  must  be  certain  about  this  one,  be- 
cause Honoria  would  never  forgive  me  for  misleading 
her,  and  these — what  is  their  name? — they  are  her  espe- 
cial favourites.  Now,  Audrey  would  remember  in  a 
moment.  How  tiresome!  for  I  might  write  perhaps  to- 
night." 

Then,  In  her  sweetest  tone,  she  said,  "  Mr.  Dynecourt, 
would  it  be  asking  you  too  much,  just  to  go  to  Mr.  Ford's 
room  and  ask  Audrey  if  she  would  tell  me  the  name  of 
that  fern  we  admired  at  Lady  Honoria  Camden's?  I 
would  not  disturb  you,  but  I  want  to  write  about  it  par- 
ticularly to-night,  and  I  cannot  remember  the  name.  I 
will  entertain  your  companion  until  you  return." 


i68  DOROTHY   FOX 

He  could  not  believe  his  ears,  and  was  so  taken  aback 
at  the  sudden  realisation  of  his  hopes  that  he  almost 
stammered  out  his  acquiescence. 

"  Ah !  as  I  thought,  very  unwilling  to  go ;  you  don't 
come  back  here,  my  friend,"  and  by  a  dexterous  movement 
of  the  chairs,  she  contrived  that  should  she  be  obliged 
to  relinquish  his  seat,  which  she  had  taken,  there  was  a 
vacant  chair  on  the  other  side. 

Ten  minutes  elapsed,  and  then  Mr.  Dynecourt  returned, 
saying,  "  Miss  Verschoyle  thinks  you  must  mean  the 
Osmunda,  but  she  does  not  know;  and  will  you  excuse 
me.  Miss  Bingham,  as  Mr.  Ford  has  asked  me  to  sit  with 
him  this  evening?" 

"  Dear  girl !"  inwardly  exclaimed  Lady  Laura.  "  That 
is  very  good  of  her  to  be  so  thoughtful  for  Charles ;  for 
of  course,  it  was  her  suggestion.  One  thing,  she  is  per- 
fectly secure  of  the  old  man ;  and  perhaps  she  is  right  not 
to  see  too  much  of  him  alone.  For  Audrey's  temper  is 
very  peculiar.  In  that  she  takes  after  her  father.  Well, 
then!  now  there  is  no  need  for  further  exertion  on  my 
part.  I  wonder  what  made  him  accept  the  invitation? 
Mr.  Ford  may  have  lent  him  money ;  or  else  he  has  some 
scheme  in  his  mind ;  but  I  think  if  he  pits  himself  against 
me,  he  will  have  to  cry  *  Peccavi'  before  long." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   SPRIG  OF    HEATHER 

The  little  tea-party,  as  old-fashioned  Mr.  Ford  called 
it,  was  a  success.  "  I  don't  think  I  have  enjoyed  anything 
so  much  as  this  for  a  very  long  time,"  he  said,  "  we  all 
look  so  homely." 

"  There  is  something  delightful  about  tea,"  replied 
Audrey,  "  it  always  makes  one  so  confidential,  I  re- 
member when  I  was  a  child,  and  Marshall's  friends  came 
to  tea  with  us,  how  I  used  to  open  my  ears,  and  be  enter- 
tained with  their  gossip.  Those  times  are  the  only  pleas- 
ant recollections  I  have  of  childhood,  except  Charlie's 
holidays,  which  were  always  a  series  of  red-letter  days. 
A  London  child  without  companions  has  not  many  pleas- 
ures. Except  at  her  luncheon,  which  was  my  dinner,  I 
seldom  saw  mamma.  My  mornings  were  spent  with  my 
governess,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  Marshall  and  I  battled 
out  together.  She  was  very  good  to  me,  and  when  I  was 
ill,  I  could  not  bear  her  out  of  my  sight.  Poor  mamma 
always  hated  a  sick-room,  and  kept  away  from  us  when 
we  were  ailing  with  any  child's  complaint,  fearing  it 
might  turn  out  to  be  small-pox,  which  she  has  a  dread 
of." 

"  Did  she,  really  ?"  said  Mr.  Ford ;  "  dear  me !  I  can 
remember  how  my  good  old  mother  used  to  wait  upon  me 
hand  and  foot  if  my  finger  only  ached.  Father  was  very 
well  while  nothing  was  the  matter ;  but  any  one  who  was 
sick  went  to  mother." 

169 


170  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Had  you  any  sisters  or  brothers  ?"  asked  Audrey. 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  but  they  all  died  early.  So  did  my 
father  and  mother,  and  I  was  left  alone  in  the  world  be- 
fore I  was  twenty." 

"  Loneliness  is  a  feeling  which  causes  us  many  a  heart- 
ache," said  Mr.  Dynecourt. 

"  Very  true,  but  my  back  ached  too  often  in  those  days 
to  indulge  in  any  such  reflections.  There  is  no  cure  for 
sorrow  like  employment." 

"  I  quite  believe  that,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt.  "  When  I 
am  idle,  I  see  life  in  a  new  light,  with  nothing  but  its 
greys,  browns,  and  neutral  tints." 

Audrey  looked  at  him.  "  Oh !  not  now.  Miss  Ver- 
schoyle.  I  never  saw  so  much  rose-colour  before,  and  I 
really  was  in  great  need  of  it,  for  I  was  very  gloomy 
when  I  came  here." 

"  Now,  that  speech  has  done  me  more  good  than  any- 
thing I  have  had  to-day !"  exclaimed  Mr,  Ford ;  "  and  it 
is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  it.". 

"  It  is  much  kinder  of  you  to  give  him  the  occasion 
for  saying  it,"  laughed  Audrey,  taking  out  some  knitting 
she  had  brought  with  her.  "  Now,  Mr.  Dynecourt,  en- 
tertain us,  tell  us  some  story  or  adventure;  in  short,  be 
amusing." 

"  I  cannot,  I  am  too  happy." 

"  Does  happiness  then  take  with  you  the  form  of 
silence?" 

"  This  does ;  I  am  afraid  to  speak  lest  I  should  break 
the  spell." 

"  In  that  you  are  wise.  My  motto  is,  '  Enjoy  all  you 
can  in  the  present  without  asking  or  expecting  anything 
from  the  future.'  " 

He  was  about  to  answer  her,  but  she  put  her  finger  to 
her  lip.     She  had  spoken  in  a  low  tone,  and  Mr.  Ford 


DOROTHY   FOX  171 

seemed  wrapt  in  his  own  reflections,  from  which  he  roused 
himself,  saying,  "  Really,  we  are  not  very  talkative ;  a 
Quakers'  meeting." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  any  Quakers  ?"  asked  Audrey. 

"  Yes,  I  have  known  several." 

"  Were  they  all  very  nice,  good  people  ?" 

"  Oh !  I  fancy  much  the  same  as  other  people  are,  some 
good  and  some  bad.  I  have  only  known  them  in  the  way 
of  business  though,  and  must  say,  I  have  always  had 
reason  to  think  well  of  them.    Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  of  two  gentle  Quakers  I  met  this  summer  in 
Devonshire,  a  mother  and  her  daughter;  we  became  ac- 
quainted through  an  adventure  my  brother  had ;"  and  she 
related  the  circumstance  of  Captain  Verschoyle's  faint- 
ness,  of  her  curiosity,  and  the  visit  they  paid' to  King's- 
heart.  "  You  would  have  been  charmed  with  them,  Mr. 
Ford,  they  were  so  simple  and  unaffected ;  quite  dif- 
ferent from  any  people  I  ever  met  before.  The  daughter 
was  sweetly  pretty,  and  had  such  an  artless  naive  man- 
ner, that  I  seemed  to  be  an  old  woman  compared  to  her. 
Then  it  was  so  strange  to  hear  them  call  us  Charles  Ver- 
schoyle  and  Audrey  Verschoyle;  somehow  all  trace  of 
stiffness  vanished,  and  we  were  like  friends  of  long  stand- 
ing when  we  parted.  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  them 
again." 

"  Perhaps  you  may,  Plymouth  is  not  so  very  far  off ; 
and  if  you  spent  one  happy  week  there,  why  not  some 
time  or  other  try  another  ?" 

"  I  told  Charles  I  should  go  there  to  spend  my  honey- 
moon." 

"  Even  that  may  be  accomplished,"  said  Mr.  Ford, 
looking  smilingly  at  her.  "  I  have  never  been  to  Ply- 
mouth, but  I  have  often  heard  of  its  beauties.  Was  it 
the  scenery  you  admired  so  much  ?" 


17^  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  I  did  admire  the  scenery ;  but  I  believe  the  happiness 
I  enjoyed  really  came  from  myself.  I  was  quite  con- 
tented, ready  to  be  pleased  with  everything,  and  then  so 
glad  to  be  with  Charlie." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt,  "  would  not  any  place  be 
charming  under  such  circumstances?  What  happiness 
equals  that  of  being  with  those  we  love  ?  You  should  have 
put  your  delight  at  being  with  your  brother  first,  for  from 
your  love  to  him  came  contentment  and  the  readiness  to  be 
pleased." 

"  I  do  not  know  that,"  she  replied ;  "  and  if  so,  the 
question  is,  how  long  would  this  tranquillity  remain?" 

"  With  you,  for  ever." 

"  Why  do  you  say,  '  with  you'  ?" 

"  Because  I  think  you  different  from  many  other 
women,  who  might  place  in  the  other  scale  money  and 
luxury ;  but  I  am  certain  neither  of  these  would  compare, 
in  your  eyes,  with  love." 

She  did  not  look  up  from  her  knitting  as  she  answered, 
gravely,  "  You  have  formed,  I  fear,  a  wrong  estimate  of 
my  character.  No  one  values  the  good  things  of  this 
world  more  than  I  do." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  value  love  more  ?" 

"  I  have  never  set  higher  value  on  any  love  which  I 
have  experienced." 

"  But  in  thought,  in  feeling,  you  know ;  you 
imagine " 

"  I  very  seldom  indulge  in  imagination ;  I  am  afraid  I 
am  very  matter-of-fact." 

"  There  I  must  differ  with  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Ford ;  "  you  have,  I  think,  a  very  imaginative  nature. 
Your  education  may  have  caused  you  to  look  upon  many 
things  as  so  necessary  to  your  comfort,  that  rather  than 
give  them  up  you  would  repress  the  luxury  of  great 


DOROTHY   FOX  i^2t 

domestic  happiness;  but,  I  believe,"  he  added,  looking 
fixedly  at  her,  "  if  you  consented  to  marry  one  for  whom 
you  did  not  feel  the  affection  which  under  other  circum- 
stances you  would  freely  bestow,  you  would  be  guided  by 
duty  and  try  to  make  him  happy." 

"  I  hope  I  should ;  I  think  I  should,"  she  said,  raising 
her  eyes  with  an  effort,  for  she  could  not  reply  with  that 
graceful  ease  which  at  other  times  was  natural  to  her. 

"  Let  us  hope  you  will  never  have  such  a  trial,  Miss 
Verschoyle,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  a  trial  to  me," 

"  Not  a  trial  to  spend  your  life  with  one  who  had  not 
your  whole  heart — one  who  could  give  you  nothing  but 
fine  clothes  and  jewels,  and  could  win  nothing  from  you  in 
return  but  duty  or  scanty  gratitude !  I  know  you  are  only 
saying  this  for  argument's  sake;  but  even  in  jest  I  do  not 
like  to  hear  it  from  you" 

"  Then  I  will  be  silent,"  she  said,  gently ;  "  only  you 
must  neither  of  you  attribute  too  much  goodness  to  me, 
for  I  fear  I  have  a  large  measure  of  coarse  clay  in  my 
composition.  I  have  made  peace  because  I  want  you  to 
do  something  for  me.    Look  at  this  skein  of  wool." 

Mr.  Dynecourt  came  nearer  to  her,  and  seated  himself 
on  a  footstool,  while  she  wound  the  skein  into  a  ball.  The 
two  made  a  charming  picture.  Their  faces  contrasted 
well — her  dark  hair,  and  eyes  full  of  vivacity  and  fire; 
his  thoughtful  face,  earnest  and  almost  grave  in  expres- 
sion. Sometimes  they  were  silent,  then  a  merry  quip  or 
jest  would  come,  or  the  wool  would  get  into  a  tangle,  and 
cause  much  accusation,  reproach,  and  defence. 

Their  host  looked  at  them,  and  repressed  a  sigh.  If  he 
carried  out  his  intention  of  asking  her  to  be  his  wife,  what 
could  he  give  her  to  compensate  for  that  which  then  she 
would  be  deprived  of?    He  had  no  doubt  that  whenever 


174  DOROTHY   FOX 

he  offered  himself  to  her  she  would  accept  him.  He  saw 
through  her  mother's  plans,  and  estimated  her  character 
exactly.  He  was  not  blind  to  Audrey's  love  of  money, 
show,  position;  but  under  all  this  he  caught  glimpses  of 
her  true  nature,  and  believed  her  to  be  true-hearted, 
loving,  and  unselfish.  And  as  his  eyes  turned  again 
upon  the  two,  he  thought  how  pleasant  it  was  to  be 
young,  and  to  be  able  to  inspire  love  for  one's  self 
alone.  Ah !  all  that  was  buried  and  gone  for  him ;  he 
sighed  audibly. 

Audrey  turned  quickly,  saying,  "  You  are  tired,  Mr. 
Ford,  and  we  are  thoughtlessly  making  too  much  noise." 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  like  to  see  you  merry.  I  have  spent 
a  very  happy  evening,  and  have  to  thank  you  both  for 
it.  It  has  been  like  home  to  me,  and  that  is  what  I 
often  sigh  for,  even  in  my  own  house.  I  was  not 
born  to  grandeur,  and  sometimes  it  is  rather  irksome 
to  me." 

"  You  must  let  us  come  again,"  replied  Audrey.  "  I 
think  it  is  time  for  me  to  leave  you ;  Dr.  Morcambe  will 
scold  us  if  we  let  you  talk  too  much,  so  good-night,  and 
to-morrow  I  hope  to  see  you  almost  well." 

"  Good-night,  my  dear,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand, 
"  good-night." 

"  I  will  see  you  to  your  room,"  said  Geoffrey ;  "  or  will 
you  return  to  the  drawing-room  ?" 

"  No,  I  shall  court  some  beauty-sleep  to-night,"  and 
they  went  out  of  the  room  together. 

As  they  crossed  the  corridor  leading  to  her  apartment, 
Mr.  Dynecourt  said,  suddenly,  "  Miss  Verschoyle,  have 
you  pardoned  my  ill-temper  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked ;  "  I  have  nothing  to 
pardon." 

"  Yes,  you  have." 


DOROTHY   FOX  175 

"  Well,  then  you  are  forgiven,"  she  said,  smiUng  to 
him. 

"  Give  me  that  heather  as  a  token,  that  when  you  are 
gone  I  may  feel  happy." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  spray  I  did  give  you  ? 
Have  you  lost  it  or  thrown  it  away,  for  you  did  not  wear 
it  at  dinner?"  and  she  looked  up  saucily  in  his  face;  but 
her  eyes  fell  before  the  gaze  she  met,  as  he  said, — 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  but  I  put  mine  nearer  my  heart  than  you 
did  yours.    Give  me  that  bunch  to — to  keep  with  the  rest.'' 

"  No,  I  cannot ;  I  must  say  '  good-night'  to  you,  or 
some  one  may  see  us." 

"  And  if  they  did,  and  knew  for  what  I  was  asking, 

would Oh,  you  must  see  whose  image  fills  my  heart ! 

I  cannot  hide  it  from  you  longer,  and  yet  I  dare  not  tell 
you.  Give  me  those  flowers  if  I  have  any  hope,"  and  he 
held  out  his  hands  imploringly. 

"  Hush,  hush !  they  are  coming  out  of  the  drawing- 
room.    I  dare  not  stay.    Good-night." 

He  held  her  hands  so  tightly  for  a  moment  that  the  pain 
forced  her  to  look  up  and  see  his  face,  so  ashen  in  its 
paleness,  and  then  he  let  her  go  and  they  parted. 

No  one  was  in  the  room,  and  Audrey  threw  herself  into 
her  chair.  She  mused  a  little  and  then  said  to  herself, 
"  Audrey  Verschoyle,  I  think  you  and  I  had  better  have 
a  little  conversation  together.  Do  you  intend  being  mis- 
tress of  Dyne  Court,  or  do  you  prefer  to  lose  the  chance 
by  making  a  fool  of  yourself  with  a  man  whom  it  is  im- 
possible for  you  to  marry?  Yes,  impossible;  don't  let 
there  be  any  mistake  there.  All  your  life  you  have 
striven  to  secure  a  good  match,  and  hitherto  you  have 
been  disappointed.  Now  the  prize  is  in  your  grasp,  all 
your  desires  are  within  reach;  there  is  a  fair  prospect 
that  the  wealth  you  have  sighed  for  will  soon  be  offered  to 


176  DOROTHY   FOX 

you.  What  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  To  accept  the  old  man, 
and  marry  him,  of  course.  Yes ;  but  it  is  very  hard  not 
to  enjoy  a  last  flirtation  before  liberty  goes.  I  need  not 
disguise  matters.  If  I  could  indulge  myself,  I  would  fall 
in  love  with  Geoffrey  Dynecourt;  and  he — I  think  he  is 
beginning  to  care  for  me.  Why  do  I  feel  so  much  com- 
punction for  this  man  ?  I  never  cared  before  what  others 
suffered.  I  always  said,!  can  take  care  of  my  heart,  and 
other  people  must  do  the  same.  What  is  there  about 
him?  He  is  not  cleverer  or  better-looking  than  dozens 
of  men  I  have  met  before,  and  yet  he  makes  me  different. 
I  never  feel  tired  of  being  with  him.  I  blush  like  a  school- 
girl when  he  looks  at  me;  and  I  find  myself  thinking 
about  him  much  oftener  than  is  at  all  necessary.  In  such 
circumstances,  most  people  would  say,  the  less  I  saw  of 
him  the  better.  Would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  fall 
seriously  in  love  with  a  penniless  man?  Most  decidedly 
it  would  not.  I  should  only  return  to  the  old  life  of 
keeping  up  appearances,  to  the  everlasting  envy,  hatred, 
and  malice  which  fill  my  heart.  I  almost  wish  I  had 
never  seen  him.  I  find  my  heart  is  not  quite  dead  yet, 
there  is  still  a  little  weakness  left  in  it;  but  my  will  is 
stronger  than  my  heart,  and  I  can  control  myself  thor- 
oughly, and  I  know  that  when  this  last  spark  is  extin- 
guished there  will  be  nothing  to  rekindle.  Had  I  not  bet- 
ter let  it  burn  itself  to  ashes  ?  for  love  is  the  only  luxury 
which  Mrs.  Richard  Ford  will  require  to  deny  herself. 
He  will  marry,  I  daresay,  and  then  no  doubt  I  shall  laugh 
at  the  absurdity  which  made  me  cast  a  thought  at  poverty 
when  I  have  secured  wealth.  I  said  I  need  use  no  dis- 
guise to  myself,  and  yet  what  a  hypocrite  I  am !  for  in  my 
heart  of  hearts  I  know  if  I  loved  as  I  could  love,  I  would 
throw  prudence  and  Dyne  Court  to  the  winds  and  share 
the  fortunes  of  the  man  I  had  chosen.    But,  thank  good- 


DOROTHY    FOX  177 

ness,  I  have  no  such  feeling  to  contend  with.  I  have 
made  my  election,  and  as  I  see  that  he  is  taking  our — our 
flirtation  too  seriously,  I  must  show  him  his  error.  At 
all  events,  I  will  give  him  no  further  encouragement." 
And  she  ended  her  reflections  by  ringing  for  her  maid. 

Lady  Laura  came  in,  shortly  after,  with  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle's  letter,  saying  he  would  return  at  once.  This 
had  put  her  ladyship  into  excellent  spirits.  "  I  shall  be 
so  glad  to  have  that  responsibility  off  my  hands,  for  Mr. 
Dynecourt's  attentions  are  becoming  rather  pointed ;"  and 
she  gave  an  account  of  the  drawing-room  scene,  coloured 
after  her  own  vivid  imagination. 

Audrey  knew  that  it  was  not  true  that  he  had  hung 
over  Miss  Bingham's  chair  and  devoured  every  word  she 
said;  while  she,  in  her  turn,  had  coquetted  and  blushed 
with  delight  at  his  speeches.  Yet  it  annoyed  her,  made 
her  feel  uneasy,  and  as  if  she  would  like  to  revenge  herself 
upon  him  for  it. 

So  she  said  she  was  very  tired,  and  did  not  require 
Marshall  any  more,  and  bade  them  both  "  Good-night." 

Then  she  drew  aside  the  curtain  and  looked  out  on  the 
moonlit  scene,  and  her  heart  leapt  up  for  joy  to  see  some 
one  gazing  at  her  window.  A  moment  after  she  thought, 
"  How  imprudent  of  him !  some  one  else  might  notice 
him.  Oh,  that  is  all  right,"  for  she  sees  he  is  smoking 
and  walking  to  and  fro. 

On  such  a  lovely  night,  what  more  natural  than  that  the 
late  owner  should  moodily  pace  up  and  down,  keeping 
company  with  his  bitter  reflections?  Audrey  could  see 
his  face  by  the  moon's  light,  and  it  was  pale  and  sad. 
Was  this  to  be  wondered  at  ?  Surely  fate  had  dealt  very 
hardly  with  him — had  taken  all  and  left  him  nothing. 
Pity  and  love  flew  towards  him  from  her  heart,  and,  for- 
getting all  her  new-made  resolutions,  she  gently  opened 

13 


178  DOROTHY   FOX 

the  window  and  the  next  time  he  came  under  it  a  sprig 
of  heather  fell  at  his  feet.  Audrey  only  waited  to  see  him 
pick  it  up,  passionately  cover  it  with  kisses,  and  almost 
before  he  could  look  up  she  had  gone.  Seeing  her  face 
in  the  glass,  she  said  to  herself,  "  Ah,  well  may  my  face 
be  red!  But  I  think  I  had  better  not  indulge  in  more 
reflections  to-night," 


His  memory  took  him  hack  nearly  forty  years  ago 


CHAPTER   XVII 

PLAYING   WITH    EDGE-TOOLS 

While  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  built  castles  in  the  air,  in 
which  he  and  Audrey  were  to  dwell  happily  together  for 
ever,  and  Audrey  Verschoyle  half  courted,  half  thrust 
aside  the  new  feeling  which  possessed  her,  because  it  was 
at  once  so  sweet,  and  so  bitter,  Richard  Ford  sat  musing 
over  his  fire.  In  his  hand  he  held  one  of  those  so-called 
portraits  cut  out  of  black  paper,  very  common  at  one 
time.  It  was  a  likeness  of  his  dead  wife,  and  as  he  sat 
gazing  on  it,  his  memory  took  him  back  to  the  day  when 
it  was  made,  nearly  forty  years  ago.  What  a  happy  day 
they  had,  and  how  proud  he  was  of  his  pretty  Patty ;  and 
she — why,  she  thought  the  king  himself  second  in  every- 
thing to  Richard !  Ah !  how  they  had  toiled  together — 
Patty,  never  cast  down,  but  always  looking  at  things  in 
a  bright  light.  They  used  to  call  those  their  hard  days, 
and  speed  their  passing  by  making  plans  for  the  future, 
'when  the  summit  of  their  ambition  would  be  gained,  and 
they  would  possess  a  little  home  in  a  country  place,  such 
as  Willesden  or  Hampstead,  where  they  would  keep  fowls, 
and  have  a  garden,  with  a  bower  where  he  could  smoke 
his  pipe,  while  she  sat  working  at  his  side.  By  the  time 
they  were  able  to  accomplish  this,  Patty  was  sleeping  in 
St.  Clement's  churchyard.  Oh!  if  God  had  but  been 
pleased  to  spare  her.  Ten  years  were  such  a  short  time 
to  be  together ;  and  what  hardships  she  had  borne  during 
those  years!  She  might  have  married  so  much  better, 
too,  over  and  over  again.    There  was  Carter  and  Page 

179 


i8o  DOROTHY   FOX 

both  dying  for  her,  and  her  old  father  threatening  all 
sorts  of  things  if  she  did  not  give  up  that  penniless  Dick 
Ford ;  but  not  she ;  and  when  times  were  hard,  and  he 
told  her  he  ought  never  to  have  brought  her  to  poverty, 
how  she  would  hang  about  him,  and  tell  him  she  was 
happier  than  the  richest  lady  in  the  land!  And  the  fire 
looks  all  blurred,  as  the  old  man  with  dim  eyes  nods  his 
head,  saying,  "  She  was  an  angel !  She  was  too  good  for 
this  world !"  But  how  he  had  changed  since  those  days ! 
why,  he  wasn't  like  the  same  man.  Patty  herself  would 
hardly  know  him,  among  so  many  grand  folks,  quite  one 
of  them  too,  and  made  as  much  fuss  about  as  if  he  were 
a  lord.  Money  was  certainly  a  good  thing,  though  it  lost 
half  its  charm  when  you  had  nobody  to  share  it  with; 
nobody  to  leave  it  to.  He  was  only  turned  sixty.  Many 
a  man  after  that  age  lived  to  see  a  goodly  family  spring 
up  around  him.  Yes,  he  must  marry,  it  was  his  duty; 
his  position  seemed  to  demand  it  of  him,  and  certainly 
nowhere  could  he  find  one  better  suited  to  be  his  wife  than 
Miss  Verschoyle.  He  knew  he  should  often  vex  her  by 
mistakes  in  speech  and  manner ;  he  knew,  however  pleas- 
ant her  society  might  be  to  him,  he  was  but  a  poor  com- 
panion for  her.  He  said  to  himself,  he  was  not  supposing 
for  a  moment  that  when  she  married  him  it  would  be  for 
aught  but  his  money ;  and  then  he  thrust  aside  something 
which  asked  whether,  when  the  riches  she  desired  were 
her  own,  she  would  not  sigh  for  freedom ;  would  she  not 
come  to  regard  him  as  a  burden  from  which  death  alone 
could  free  her?  No,  no!  he  must  have  common  sense, 
and  not  expect  to  be  loved  like  a  young  man ;  he  must 
be  content  with  respect  and  esteem,  which  he  believed 
Audrey  would  always  accord  to  him.  And  another  thing 
in  his  favour  was  his  belief  that  on  love  merely  she  set 
little  value.    Had  it  been  otherwise,  surely  she  would  have 


DOROTHY   FOX  i8i 

long  since  secured  what  must  have  been  frequently  of- 
fered to  her.  So  he  decided  that  he  would  wait  until  his 
other  guests  had  departed,  beg  Lady  Laura  to  remain 
another  day,  and  then  ask  Audrey  to  be  his  wife. 

Before  Miss  Verschoyle  and  Mr.  Dynecourt  met  again, 
Audrey  had  seriously  taken  herself  to  task  for  giving 
way  to  her  imprudent  impulse.  She  never  raised  her 
eyes  when  she  said  "  Good-morning ;"  nor  did  she  re- 
turn the  pressure  he  gave  her  hand.  She  complained  that 
she  had  a  headache,  and  therefore  took  her  breakfast  in 
silence.  She  knew  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  was  watching  her, 
by  the  alacrity  with  which  her  wants  were  anticipated; 
but  beyond  these  attentions  he  did  not  intrude  himself 
upon  her  notice ;  and  he  allowed  her  to  leave  the  break- 
fast-room without  following  her. 

Some  fears  and  a  shade  of  disappointment  did  trouble 
him;  but  he  pressed  them  down  with  the  heather,  lying 
warm  at  his  heart,  sweet  token  that  she  loved  him;  for, 
after  having  asked  the  heather  as  a  sign,  she  would  surely 
never  have  thrown  the  precious  gift  to  him  unless  her 
love  was  all  his  own. 

Oh,  how  bitter  it  was  to  him  now  to  know  that  his 
house  and  lands  were  in  the  possession  of  a  stranger! 
For  her  to  be  mistress  over  that  which  had  hitherto  held 
the  first  place  in  his  heart  would  be  happiness  indeed. 
The  idea  that  this  loss  could  make  any  difference  to  her 
in  giving  him  the  love  he  longed  for  never  once  occurred 
to  him.  True,  he  had  hardly  dared  to  hope  for  such  a 
treasure.  He  had  nothing  that  could  make  her  love  him. 
He  was  not  half  good  enough,  or  clever  enough.  Had  he 
been  a  duke  or  an  earl  he  would  have  asked  her  love  as 
humbly  as  he  did  now,  and  have  thought  himself  as  little 
worthy  of  it.  That  such  a  priceless  gift  could  be  bought, 
could  be  bartered  away  for  money,  never  occurred  to 


i82  DOROTHY   FOX 

him.  To  him  she  was  a  very  Una,  walking  unharmed  and 
unsullied  amid  the  world's  snares. 

In  the  fortnight  they  had  spent  together  at  Dyne  Court 
they  had  seen  more  of  each  other  than  they  could  have 
done  in  years  of  ordinary  London  visiting  life.  Audrey 
soon  knew  that  the  sage  maxims  with  which  she  generally 
favoured  her  companions  would  be  distasteful  to  this  man, 
with  his  exalted  ideal  of  what  woman  should  be,  and  his 
belief  that  in  her  he  saw  the  reflection  of  the  image  his 
fancy  had  painted.  She  had  made  the  most  of  the  morn- 
ings spent  together,  when  Mr.  Ford  was  in  company  with 
his  steward.  Every  evening  while  the  gentlemen  sipped 
their  wine,  from  which  prosy  ordeal  Geoffrey  made  an 
early  escape,  the  two  wandered  together  through  the 
shady  avenues ;  hushing  their  voices,  because  all  around 
was  so  still,  saying  little  in  words,  but  by  every  lingering 
look  and  half-drawn  happy  sigh  telling  a  tale  more  elo- 
quent than  the  most  ready  speech  ever  told,  and  tighten- 
ing each  loop  and  mesh  of  the  net,  from  which  one  at 
least  never  wished  to  escape. 

Circumstances  had  prevented  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  from 
seeing  much  of  fashionable  society.  Except  when  he  was 
a  very  young  man,  he  had  never  had  a  positive  flirtation ; 
consequently  he  was  quite  unskilled  in  that  dangerous 
warfare  of  art  and  coquetry  so  generally  indulged  in.  He 
only  knew  that  he  had  disguised  nothing  from  her,  who 
had  aroused  these  new  feelings  in  him,  and  all  he  had 
offered  she  had  accepted.  The  refusal  to  give  him  the 
heather  was  the  first  positively  painful  doubt  which  had 
crossed  his  mind,  and  while  his  heart  was  yet  cast  down, 
hardly  daring  to  hope  again,  and  battling  with  despond- 
ency, the  prize  fell  at  his  feet  and  proclaimed  him  victor. 

To  Audrey  such  a  character  as  Geoffrey  Dynecourt's 
was  entirely  new.    Playing  at  love-making  had  been  one 


DOROTHY   FOX  183 

^of  her  earliest  accomplishments,  and  she  had  generally 
found  the  men  she  had  practised  her  arts  upon  equal  to 
herself  in  the  knowledge  of  these  pleasant  deceptions. 
True,  it  had  happened  that  at  times  one  of  the  combatants 
had  been  wounded ;  but  what  mattered  that  to  the  other  ? 
it  only  showed  off  his  or  her  superior  skill,  and  one  con- 
solation there  was — the  hurt  was  a  mere  scratch  which 
would  soon  be  healed,  and  leave  the  sufferer  wiser  than 
before.  It  was  well  known  that  no  deception  took  such  an 
earnest  form  as  when  two  people  knew  that  nothing  could 
possibly  come  of  it.  Audrey  used  to  declare  no  flirtations 
ever  equalled  those  with  ineligible  men  and  younger  sons 
— "  the  others  said  their  heart-broken  speeches  and  rap- 
turous compliments  with  fear  and  trembling,  doubting  lest 
in  some  underhand  way  you  might  take  advantage  of 
them.  They  therefore  took  fright  and  went  off  like  rusty 
muskets  when  you  least  expected  them." 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  certainty  that  she  was  to  marry 
Mr.  Ford,  Audrey  would  have  had  no  qualms  of  con- 
science about  the  earnest  looks,  the  lingering  adieux,  the 
low-toned  conversations ;  but  she  wished  to  retain  Geof- 
frey Dynecourt  as  a  friend  after  she  married.  "And  I 
am  rendering  that  next  to  impossible,"  she  thought,  as  she 
sat  in  her  room  reflecting  on  the  previous  night's  episode ; 
"  for  old  men's  wives  had  better  not  choose  their  friends 
from  former  lovers ;  *  Pity  is  akin  to  love,'  and  Mrs. 
Richard  Ford  must  live  without  either  of  those  soft  sym- 
pathies. It  is  of  no  use  sitting  brooding  over  it,"  she 
continued,  rising  hastily.  "  I  had  better  take  a  stroll,  and 
exorcise  this  dark  mood.  I  hope  no  one  will  see  me  go 
out,  and  I'll  get  a  good  spin,  and  come  back  better  pleased 
with  myself  perhaps,  and  the  world  generally." 

While  putting  on  her  hat  she  wondered  how  she  could 
get  out  into  the  walk  which  she  saw  from  her  window. 


"184  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  I  think  there  must  be  a  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  side 
staircase,  or  how  did  he  get  there  last  night?  I'll  try." 
Her  efforts  were  successful,  and,  as  she  gently  closed  the 
door,  she  congratulated  herself  that  no  one  had  seen  her 
depart.  She  did  not  hear  a  heart  leap  up,  and  a  voice  say, 
"  My  darling !  I  knew  you  would  come  here  to  meet  me." 
She  did  not  see  the  passionate  eyes,  that  had  waited  so 
long  for  their  light  to  appear,  now  lovingly  rest  upon  her. 
She  did  not  know  that  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  was  following 
her,  exulting  more  and  more,  as  he  saw  her  turn  towards 
the  "  Saint's  Well,"  for  was  not  that  the  place  where  all 
true  lovers  went  to  pledge  their  vows? 

"  A  place  for  lovers,  and  for  lovers  only,"  seems  best 
to  describe  "  St.  Hieretha's  Well,"  shaded  as  it  was  from 
the  glaring  light  by  trees,  whose  branches  lovingly  en- 
twined and  interlaced  each  other.  The  moss-covered 
ground  formed  a  carpet,  on  which  two  fantastic  old 
stumps  stood  side  by  side,  fashioned  into  a  rude  sort  of 
elbowed  seat ;  ferns  flourished  in  rich  luxuriance,  peeping 
out  from  every  nook  and  cranny;  and  a  fringe  of  harts- 
tongue  lapped  round  the  tiny  pool  of  water,  where  hung 
the  mystic  cup,  dedicated  to  the  lips  of  true  love  alone. 

Audrey  had  never  been  here  before,  and  to  her  hot, 
chafing  spirit,  the  cool  retreat  was  welcome  indeed.  It 
was  impossible  to  turn  her  back  at  once  on  such  a  quiet 
rest;  she  must  sit  here  awhile  and  ease  her  burden  of 
discontent.  So  she  took  possession  of  the  seat,  but  before 
many  minutes  had  passed,  the  man  whose  presence  she 
at  that  moment  least  desired  stood  before  her,  knelt  by  her 
side,  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and,  looking  into  her  face, 
said,  "  Audrey,  my  darling !"  Then  a  great  wave  seemed 
to  sweep  over  her  heart,  and  she  recognised  one  before 
whom  she  was  awed  and  abashed.  The  words  she  would 
have  spoken  died  away  upon  her  lips,  as  he  put  his  arm 


DOROTHY   FOX  185 

round  her,  saying,  tenderly,  "  We  have  no  need  of  words 
to  tell  our  love,  our  hearts  have  spoken  to  each  other, 
and  made  their  choice  before  they  even  whispered  to  us 
their  sweet  secret.  Oh,  Audrey,  my  own,  how  good  God 
has  been  to  me !  I  had  been  doubting  Him  because  I  had 
lost  worldly  riches,  and  all  the  time  He  was  going  to  give 
me  you,  a  precious  treasure  that  the  whole  world  must 
covet ;  making  you  love  me,  when  I  thought  I  should  have 
to  worship  you  afar  off  all  the  days  of  my  life.  How 
could  I  dare  hope  for  any  more  ?  You  who  might  choose 
any  one!  Nay,  dearest,  it  is  true.  I  had  no  right  to 
dream  of  being  chosen  by  you ;  but  since  you  love  me, 
and  have  said  you  will  be  mine,  I  walk  upon  air !" 

"  No,  no !"  were  the  first  words  she  found  power  to 
utter. 

"  Not  in  words ;  and,  darling,  do  not  think  I  presume 
in  saying  so.  Oh,  Audrey,  I  -will  beg,  entreat  for  every 
word  and  look !  No  slave  ever  more  humbly  asked  a  great 
boon  at  his  master's  hand  than  I  will  at  your  feet.  It  is 
only  because  I  know,  come  what  may,  you  have  given  me 
your  heart,  that  mine  refuses  to  be  silent,  and  will  pro- 
claim aloud  its  passionate  delight." 

She  made  a  great  effort  to  free  herself  from  him  and 
regain  her  self-possession. 

"  Mr.  Dynecourt,  we  have — that  is,  you — are  mis- 
taken." 

"Mistaken!" 

"  That  is,  I  mean  you  have  taken  things  too  seriously. 
I — I  never  intended,"  and  she  stopped,  seeing  the  agony 
of  suspense  he  was  enduring. 

Still  he  clung  to  hope. 

"  Miss  Verschoyle,"  he  said,  in  a  penitent  voice,  "  I 
have  been  too  sudden.  I  should  have  waited  for  you  to 
speak.    You  think,  perhaps,  I  make  too  little  of  your  love ; 


i86  DOROTHY   FOX 

have  dared  to  call  it  mine  too  readily.  Oh !  if  so,  forgave 
me.  I  will  wait;  I  will  be  silent;  I  will  not  speak  of  it 
again  until  you  bid  me.  No  task  you  impose  shall  be  too 
hard,  if  it  is  to  win  one  word  of  hope  from  you.  I  was 
intoxicated  with  delight,  and  did  not  know  what  I  said. 
Tell  me  you  forgive  me !"  and  he  tried  to  take  her  hand 
again. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said  humbly :  "  it  is 
you  who  must  forgive  me ;  but  I — I  never  thought  you — 
you  were  serious,"  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

In  a  moment  he  had  taken  them  away  by  force,  and 
exclaimed,  in  a  harsh  voice,  "  Look  straight  into  my 
face.  Now  tell  me,  did  you  mean  all  the  time  to  deceive 
me?" 

"  I— I  never  thought " 

"  I  do  not  ask  what  you  thought ;  but  when  you  looked 
into  my  eyes  with  love,  was  it  to  cheat  me?  When  you 
answered  my  half-spoken  words  in  your  soft  low  voice, 
was  it  to  mock  me  ?  When  you  threw  me  this  heather  and 
bade  me  take  hope,  was  it  to  deceive  me  ?" 

"  It  was,"  she  said,  and  her  face  blanched  like  his  own. 

He  flung  her  hands  from  him,  and  hiding  his  face, 
groaned  aloud  in  his  misery.  The  tears  came  slowly 
dropping  from  Audrey's  eyes,  and  she  could  not  help  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  his  bowed  head. 

"  Mr.  Dynecourt,  pray  do  not  give " 

He  started  up.  "  Do  not  touch  me !"  he  cried,  passion- 
ately. "  What !  you  have  tears  too  at  your  command  ? 
You  can  play  at  pitying  your  victim  ?  Oh,  you  are  a  cun- 
ning sorceress!  Are  you  satisfied  with  your  power? 
Shall  I  delight  your  heart  further  by  telling  you  how 
your  charm  has  worked?  that  before  I  knew  you  I  was 
only  sore  at  heart  because  I  had  lost  the  place  where  I  and 
all  my  race  were  born ;  saddened  because  strangers  had  a 


DOROTHY    FOX  187 

right  to  the  house  in  which  my  mother  died,  and  my  father 
reared  the  only  thing  he  had  left  to  him.  When  I  worked 
and  toiled,  hope  was  yet  alive  within  me  that  some  day 
I  might  have  a  loving  woman  to  make  me  forget  these 
trials.  I  met  you.  You  know  how  you  made  me  forget 
everything  but  your  presence.  I  dreamt  I  had  found  the 
noblest,  best,  truest-hearted  being  ever  permitted  to  bless 
earth  with  her  presence.  If  you  had  not  returned  what 
you  saw  I  was  obliged  to  offer  you,  I  should  have  gone 
from  you  humbly,  knowing  I  was  not  worthy  of  you,  and 
all  my  life  you  would  have  been  my  ideal  of  perfection. 
Now  you  have  stranded  hope;  it  lies  dead  within  me, 
and  with  it  faith  and  trust  in  womankind.  Let  your 
heart  rejoice,  for  you  have  left  me  nothing  to  live  for. 
Go  on  to  bewitch  and  cozen  other  dupes.  Oh,  you  must 
have  a  happy  life !" 

Audrey's  spirit  was  roused.  "  You  have  no  right  to 
speak  to  me  as  you  have  done,"  she  said ;  "  if  I  have  in- 
jured you,  I  am  sorry ;  but  how  was  I  to  know  you  were 
different  from  other  men?  I  met  men  who  played  with 
me  as  you  say  I  have  played  with  you,  and  then  laughed 
at  the  ignorant  simplicity  which  made  me  suppose  they 
meant  anything  serious  to  a  girl  without  a  penny.  In  the 
world,  poor  people  such  as  we  are  cannot  afford  to  love. 
We  may  play  at  love,  but  we  must  marry  for  money.  I 
am  of  the  world,  brought  up  in  its  ways,  versed  in  its 
deceits.  How  could  I  think  you  looked  upon  me  as  a 
fresh  loving  girl  ?  Every  one  in  the  house  could  have  told 
you  what  brought  me  here." 

"  They  have  told  me  that  you  intended  to  marry  Mr. 
Ford,  and  I  have  laughed  the  idea  to  scorn." 

"  You  need  not  have  done  so ;  it  is  quite  true ;  and 
whenever  he  chooses  to  ask  me,  it  is  my  intention  to  ac- 
cept him." 


i88  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  No !  Audrey,  not  that ;  anything  else.  I  could  bear 
to  see  you  happy,  but  not  to  degrade  yourself." 

"  Degrade  myself,  Mr.  Dynecourt !"  she  said,  bitterly ; 
"  according  to  your  showing,  it  is  the  man  who  marries 
me  will  bear  the  degradation.  Mr.  Ford  has  wealth; 
that  is  all  that  such  as  I  can  possibly  desire." 

"  Then  tell  me  one  thing ;  if  we  had  met  under  other 
circumstances,  and  I  had  possessed  what  former  Dyne- 
courts  did,  and  had  asked  you  to  be  mine,  would  you  have 
said  yes  ?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  fixing  her  eyes  upon 
him,  answered,  "  With  all  my  heart." 

"  Then  I  thank  God  for  having  taken  it  from  me.  I 
rejoice  that  I  am  as  a  beggar  in  your  sight.  Had  all 
England  been  mine,  I  should  have  pleaded  my  cause  as 
humbly  as  I  did  to-day ;  but  now  that  I  find  your  love  is 
only  a  thing  put  up  to  the  highest  bidder,  I  am  grateful 
to  Fate  for  compelling  me  to  stand  aloof  from  such 
barter.  The  old  lands  of  Dynecourt  have  indeed  changed 
hands,  when  they  are  to  be  reigned  over  by  such  a  mer- 
cantile mistress.  Farewell,  Miss  Verschoyle;  your  sex 
may  thank  you  for  having  so  effectually  taught  me  their 
true  value.  I  hope  when  you  are  the  wife  of  Richard 
Ford,  you  will  find  happiness  in  the  riches  you  so  de- 
voutly worship ;  as  for  your  husband  that  is  to  be,  I  am 
sorry  for  him ;  the  good  old  man  deserves  a  better  fate." 

He  was  gone,  and  Audrey  stood  motionless  where  he 
had  left  her;  the  echo  of  his  bitter  parting  still  ringing 
in  her  ears,  and  falling  like  a  dirge  upon  her  heart. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HARRY   EGERTON'S   ADVICE 

John  Hanbury  and  Captain  Verschoyle  parted  at  the 
Shoreditch  station,  the  former  going  off  to  his  business, 
the  latter  to  Madame  Roget's  to  inquire  after  the  com- 
missions from  his  mother. 

Not  caring  to  be  stuck  down  in  the  country  with  "  a 
lot  of  stupid  people,"  as  he  called  them,  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  run  down  to  Darington  to  see  his  old  friend 
and  godfather;  and  as  a  preliminary  to  this  he  at  once 
wrote,  informing  him  of  his  being  in  London.  To  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle's  surprise,  Mr.  Egerton  presented  him- 
self at  his  club  the  next  afternoon. 

The  satisfaction  it  gave  the  old  gentleman  to  see  his 
godson  again  safe  and  well,  and  the  evident  pleasure  it 
was  to  the  young  man  to  meet  him,  prevented  Mr.  Eger- 
ton from  giving  way  to  his  usual  acerbity,  beyond  his  say- 
ing in  the  gruff  voice  which  made  those  who  did  not  know 
him  think  him  in  a  furious  passion, — 

"  When  the  mountain  wouldn't  come  to  Mahomet,  Ma- 
homet went  to  the  mountain ;  and  I  am  fool  enough  to  do 
the  same."  Then,  thinking  this  speech  had  rather  be- 
trayed his  genuinely  warm  feelings  and  real  motive,  he 
added,  "  But  don't  think  you've  brought  me  up.  No,  no ! 
I've  come  to  give  that  vagabond  shoemaker  a  little  of  my 
Queen's  English;  and,  by  the  great  Mogul's  imperial 
cat's  eyebrows,  if  he  makes  me  another  pair  of  his  nigger- 
cut  boots,  with  as  much  heel  as  toe,  I'll — I'll "  and 

here  he  brought  down  his  fist  upon  the  table,  making  the 

189 


190  DOROTHY   FOX 

very  furniture  rattle — "  kick  the  fellow  round  his  own 
shop  with  'em,  sir !"  Then  he  put  his  arm.  into  Captain 
Verschoyle's,  saying,  "  Come  along  with  me  to  Conduit 
Street,  and  tell  me  what  you're  up  to  for  the  next  few 
days." 

"  Why,  when  I  have  despatched  that  box  and  a  letter 
to  my  mother,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service." 

"  Humph !  then  you're  precious  hard-up  for  money  or 
companions,  I  know.  Well,  stop  and  do  your  business, 
and  I'll  go  to  Conduit  Street  by  myself;  and  after  that 
we'll  try  and  be  jolly,  though  I  don't  know  what's  the 
way  in  these  days,  when  everybody  is  hedged  in  on  all 
sides,  and  you  can't  drive  a  coach,  and  you  mustn't  fight 
a  duel.  My  stars !  what  a  set  of  Lady  Fannys  you  men 
have  been  turned  into !" 

Harry  Egerton — as,  in  spite  of  his  seventy  years,  all 
who  knew  him  still  called  him — was  what  people  term  a* 
character.  Those  who  met  him  for  the  first  time  always 
asked  what  made  him  so  brusque  and  cynical.  Why  did 
he  sneer  at  everything  and  everybody,  and  why  had  he 
never  married?  His  oldest  friend  could  not  have  given 
a  satisfactory  answer  to  one  of  these  questions.  In  his 
day,  he  and  Lascelles  Verschoyle — Charles  Verschoyle's 
father — had  been  young  sprigs  of  fashion,  sworn  friends, 
and  constant  companions.  Then  they  parted  for  two  years 
— saw  nothing  of  each  other ;  and  when  they  met  again, 
Colonel  Verschoyle  had  married,  which  altered  him  con- 
siderably to  all  but  his  old  chum.  Harry  Egerton  had  per- 
haps met  with  a  disappointment.  Certain  it .  was  that 
something  had  soured  his  temper,  altered  his  manner,  and 
somehow  changed  his  whole  life.  He  never  married, 
spoke  in  cuttting  terms  of  womankind  in  general,  and 
year  by  year  became  more  peculiar.  Withal,  however,  he 
retained  his  old  friends,  and  was  looked  up  to  by  the 


DOROTHY   FOX  191 

younger  men,  who  could  generally  bear  testimony  to  the 
liberality  of  his  heart  and  purse,  notwithstanding  the 
sharpness  of  his  tongue  and  temper. 

Charles  Verschoyle  was  his  especial  favourite,  his  god- 
son, and  his  future  heir;  not  that  the  old  man  had  much 
to  leave  beyond  the  inconvenient,  old-fashioned  house, 
some  few  miles  out  of  York,  where  he  lived  up  to,  and, 
as  he  said,  beyond,  his  income;  and  where  he  gave  a 
hearty  welcome  to  the  men  who  chose  to  come  and  stay 
there  without  bothering  him,  or  expecting  more  enter- 
tainment than  a  day's  shooting  or  hunting,  and  a  plain 
bachelor-dinner  when  their  sport  was  over. 

Many  had  tried  to  find  out  the  secret  which  had  seemed 
to  influence  his  life;  but  all  had  failed.  If  there  was  any 
story  connected  with  it,  he  kept  strict  guard  over  it,  until 
many  believed  that  his  eccentricity  lay  in  his  peculiar 
disposition,  and  his  great  love  of  ease  and  quiet. 

Of  course,  he  wanted  to  know  all  about  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle's  personal  experience  of  the  war.  Most  of  the 
afternoon  was  spent  in  answering  questions  and  de- 
scribing actions,  until,  when  dinner  was  over,  Mr.  Eger- 
ton  said, — 

"  Well,  Charlie,  and  what  are  you  going  to  be  after 
now  ?" 

"  Why,  my  last  idea  was  to  get  married,  sir." 

"  Married !"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  tone  of 
the  greatest  contempt.  "  What  1  are  you  tired  of  peace 
already  ?" 

"  Hardly  that,"  laughed  Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  but  if 
a  man  intends  to  take  a  wife,  it's  time  he  did  so,  at  my 
age. 

"  Oh,  certainly.  Don't  you  prove  an  exception  to  the 
rule  that  *  there's  no  fool  like  an  old  fool.'  " 

"Come,  that's  not  fair,  and  won't  do,"  said  Captain 


192  DOROTHY   FOX 

Verschoyle ;  "  besides,  an  old  fool  wants  somebody  to 
take  care  of  him ;  and,  remember,  although  '  woman  in 
our  hours  of  ease'  may  be  'uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to 
please ' " 

"  According  to  your  own  account,  you  haven't  found 
*em  so,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  And,  as  for  the  rest,  it's 
all  bosh ;  for,  if  '  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow — ' 
hang  the  women !  Get  a  bottle  of  soda-water  and  a  wet 
towel;  but  what's  the  good  of  me  talking?  Out  with  it; 
you've  found  an  angel,  of  course,  and  you're  in  love.  Ha, 
ha!  while  the  flame's  burning  you  don't  smell  the  brim- 
stone; that  comes  after  matrimony." 

"  No,  no,  you're  wrong ;  I  am  not  one  bit  in  love ;  and 
the  young  lady  is  far  better  than  an  angel ;  she  is  an 
heiress  with  £50,000  of  her  own,  besides  expectations. 
My  mother  is  most  anxious  for  the  match,  thinking  it  the 
last  chance  I  may  get,  and  not  a  bad  one  either,  for  she 
is  a  pretty,  lady-like  girl ;  young,  and  not  bad-tempered." 

"  Why  don't  you  have  her,  then  ?" 

"  Because  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  that  she  and  her 
money  would  make  me  happier  than  I  am  at  present.  I 
want  your  advice  about  it." 

"  Oh !  you  do  ?  very  well  then,  I'll  give  it.  My  opinion 
is,  that  any  man  who  marries  at  all  is  a  fool ;  but  a  man 
who  waits  to  get  advice  first  is  worse ;  particularly  when 
he  spends  his  time  in  putting  the  woman  on  one  side  of 
the  scale  and  her  money  on  the  other.  Don't  do  that,, 
Charlie,  my  boy,  or  I'd  rather  see  you  married  to  a  house- 
maid than  to  the  richest  heiress  in  England.  If  you  must 
marry,  marry  a  woman  you  love,  and  who  loves  you,  or 
else  keep  single  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

Captain  Verschoyle  took  his  companion's  hand,  laugh- 
ing heartily,  as  he  shook  it. 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  I  knew  you'd  tell  me  what  to  do.    I 


DOROTHY   FOX  193 

have  felt  all  this  myself;  but  you  know  how  that  cursed 
money  tempts  one.  I  won't  go  to  Dyne  Court  again.  It's 
rather  a  dull  place ;  and  later  on,  if  I  wish  it,  I  shall  have 
lots  of  chances  of  meeting  the  young  lady  in  London; 
then,  if  I  get  to  like  her  better,  all  right,  I'll  try  my  fate ; 
and  if  not,  I — well,  I  shall  have  done  better  than  if  I  were 
to  go  down  now,  when  we  would  be  constantly  thrown 
together,  and  I  might  get  philandering,  and  thinking  I 
meant  more  than  I  really  do." 

"  Come  to  me  at  once,  then,"  said  Mr.  Egerton.  "  I 
am  going  for  my  yearly  visit  to  Harrogate,  with  old  Bob 
Constable ;  and,  after  that,  I  shall  be  home." 

"  Very  well,  I  will.  Stapleton  and  some  fellows  have 
asked  me  down  for  some  shooting,  and  when  I  have 
finished  there  I'll  come  on  to  you." 

So  this  was  decided,  and,  a  few  days  after,  Captain 
Verschoyle  went  down  to  Harrogate  with  Mr.  Egerton, 
and  remained  until  Sir  Robert  Constable  arrived.  He 
then  took  his  departure,  and  came  back  to  town,  intending 
fo  join  Colonel  Stapleton's  party  as  soon  as  he  had  made 
the  necessary  arrangements. 


»^ 


CHAPTER   XIX 
Dorothy's  blush 

In  the  mean  time  Nathaniel  Fox  had  joined  his  wife 
at  Fryston  Grange,  As  he  could  only  stay  a  few  days, 
he  had  been  making  the  most  of  his  time;  and  now  that 
the  visit  was  nearly  over,  he  would  hardly  confess  to 
himself  how  thoroughly  he  had  enjoyed  the  change. 

"  I  do  wish  you  could  stay  longer,  father,"  said  Grace. 
"There  are  so  many  things  I  should  like  you  to  see, 
which  I  know  would  interest  you.  Now,  when  will  you 
come  again  ?" 

"  I  wish,"  put  in  John  Hanbury,  "  that  we  could  induce 
your  father  to  move  Londonward  altogether." 

Nathaniel  shook  his  head  as  he  said,  half  comically, 
"  I  find  that  I  have  been  wisely  dealt  with  in  not  having 
been  set  down  to  spend  my  life  within  reach  of  pleasures 
which  are  very  engrossing.  I  begin  to  fear  that  in  my 
nature  lies  a  love  of  excitement,  of  which  hitherto  I 
have  been  ignorant." 

John  and  Grace  laughed  at  Nathaniel's  ideas  of  dis- 
sipation, which  meant  several  meetings  at  Exeter  Hall 
and  visits  to  the  Crystal  Palace. 

"  No,  no,  John,"  he  added,  "  Patience  and  I  will  re- 
turn home;  and  in  spite  of  all  we  have  seen,  it  will  not 
be  hard  to  renew  our  quiet-  Hfe,  will  it,  wife  ?" 

Patience  smiled  her  reply.  "  No ;  and  we  shall  have 
much  to  talk  about,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Nathaniel.  "  Dear !  dear !  the 
world  progresses  with  rapid  strides.  I  feel  more  like  a 
194 


DOROTHY   FOX  195 

spectator  than  one  who  is  born  to  take  a  share  in  all 
this ;"  adding,  with  much  gravity,  "  I  fear  I  have  perhaps 
been  unduly  severe  towards  those  who  are  desirous  to 
keep  pace  with  the  times.  Remember,  now,  I  do  not 
excuse  them,  but  I  see  more  reason  for  it  than  I  ever 
did  before." 

John  was  too  sen.sible  to  be  drawn  into  any  discus- 
sion with  the  old  gentleman,  knowing  that  once  off  on 
his  hobby  they  might  not  part  quite  so  amiably;  besides 
which,  this  remark  from  Nathaniel  was  a  wonderful 
concession,  and,  after  making  it,  he  relapsed  into  silence, 
fearing  he  had  been  carried  away  into  saying  rather  too 
much. 

During  that  same  morning,  Grace  and  Patience  had 
been  left  at  home  together,  and  the  former  took  occasion 
to  ask  if  Dorothy's  dress,  while  she  stayed  with  them, 
might  not  be  a  little  modified.  "  I  fear  her  present 
costume  would  rather  attract  attention;  and  if  you  and 
father  did  not  object  to  her  having  a  simple  white  dress 
for  evening  wear,  and  a  plain  grey  silk,  with  a  straw  bon- 
net, rather  more  fashionably  made,  for  out-doors,  I  really 
think  it  would  be  better." 

"  I  was  going  to  speak  myself  of  this,"  said  Patience. 
"  I  have  already  mentioned  the  subject  to  her  father,  and 
he  has  consented;  only  she  must  not  wear  colours, 
Grace." 

"  Certainly  not.  You  may  depend  upon  me,  mother. 
After  what  father  said  last  night  about  the  confidence 
he  reposed  in  John  and  me  regarding  Dorothy,  we  shall 
both  be  most  particular  that  she  goes  nowhere,  and  sees 
no  one  but  such  as  we  feel  you  would  entirely  approve 
of.  There  is  one  thing  which  I  was  going  to  ask  you 
about  this  young  Crewdson;  is  he  an  accepted  lover  of 
Dolly's?" 


196  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Oh,  no !"  returned  Patience.  "  Thy  father  and  Ste- 
phen Crewdson  always  desired  this  union  of  the  two 
families,  but  the  fulfilment  of  the  wish  is  left  entirely  to 
Josiah  and  Dorothy." 

"  He  has  been  visiting  you  lately,  has  he  not  ?  How 
did  you  all  like  him?" 

"  Very  much,  indeed,"  said  Patience.  "  I  think  him 
an  excellent  young  man.  But  Grace,  dear,  Dorothy  will 
never  care  for  him ;  it  is  easy  to  see  that.  He  has  none 
of  those  ways  which  win  a  girl's  heart." 

"  I  hope  he  is  not  like  those  dragonesses  of  sisters. 
I  remember  them ;  they  were  the  terror  of  my  childhood ; 
and  Aunt  Caroline  tells  me  they  have  stood  still,  and 
hot  altered  in  any  way  since." 

"  Oh,  no !  Poor  Josiah  is  painfully  bashful,  and  rather 
homely  in  manners  and  appearance.  Thy  father  still 
holds  to  it  that  Dorothy  will  learn  to  love  him,  but  I  am 
convinced  she  never  will;  and  this  made  me,  as  I  told 
thee  in  my  letter,  particularly  anxious  that  before  she 
would  be  called  upon  to  decide  she  should  see  a  little  of 
the  world." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Grace.  "  Why,  the  poor  child 
has  never  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  anybody  at  King's- 
heart;  and  she  is  so  pretty,  mother,  and  sweet,  that  she 
might  win  any  man's  love.  I  shall  try  and  sound  her  as 
to  how  she  feels  disposed  towards  Josiah." 
.  "  Do,"  said  Patience.  "  With  thee  she  may  be  more 
open." 

So,  a  few  days  after  Patience  and  Nathaniel  had  taken 
their  departure,  Grace  approached  the  subject  by  saying, 
"  Oh,  Dolly,  how  did  you  like  Josiah  Crewdson  ?" 

"  Very  much.    He  was  with  us  a  week." 
.    "  Yes,  so  mother  said.    Is  he  good-looking  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Dorothy,  laughing  at  the  idea,  "  not 


DOROTHY   FOX  19; 

at  all !  He  is  short  and  fat,  and  his  cheeks  are  very  red; 
and  go  out  so."  And  she  puffed  out  her  own  to  give 
Grace  some  idea  of  Josiah's  rotund  countenance.  "  He 
made  me  laugh  every  time  I  saw  him  going  up  a  hill; 
he  used  to  puff  and  pant  like  an  old  man.  But  he  is  very 
good-tempered,  and  he  never  minds  what  any  one  says." 

"  For  '  any  one'  read  '  I,'  "  said  Grace,  smiling.  "  Per- 
haps he  thinks  all  you  say  is  perfect." 

Dorothy  laughed. 

"  He  says  he  is  very  fond  of  me.  His  sisters  are  so 
cross  to  him,  poor  fellow — they  never  laugh  or  are  cheer- 
ful— and  his  father  would  not  allow  him  to  speak,  par- 
ticularly at  dinner;  and  do  all  thou  canst,  nothing  will 
make  him  say  more  than  *  Yes'  and  '  No.'  Of  course  he 
has  finished  long  before  anybody  else,  and  then  he  is  so 
uncomfortable  at  having  nothing  to  do,  that  he  eats  twice 
as  much  as  he  wants." 

"  Not  a  very  romantic  description  of  a  lover,  Dolly ; 
for  I  suppose  I  am  to  consider  him  in  something  of  that 
light." 

"  Oh,  no,  Grace ;  at  least,  I  have  only  promised  father 
to  try  and  like  him;  and  I  told  Josiah  the  same.  But 
for  all  that  I  do  not  think  of  him  as  a  lover — not  that  I 
know  anything  about  lovers,"  she  said,  her  face  getting 
suddenly  very  red.  "  I  often  wonder,"  she  went  on  witlr 
a  sigh,  "  if  anybody  else  would  like  me.  I  mean  some 
one  who — who  was  not  like  Josiah." 

Grace  laughed  at  the  simplicity  expressed  in  Doro- 
thy's words.  "  Indeed,  Dolly,"  she  replied,  looking  at 
the  blush  on  the  lovely  face  turned  towards  her,  "  I  think 
you  may  make  your  mind  quite  easy  on  that  point.  But; 
by  being  not  like  Josiah,  do  you  mean  not  a  Friend?" 

The  colour  which  had  died  away  from  Dorothy's 
cheeks  now  returned  with  double  force  as  she  replied, 


198  DOROTHY   FOX 

very  gravely,  "  Grace  dear,  I  hope  always  to  uphold  our 
principles,  and  to  marry  out  of  our  own  Society  would 
not  surely  be  consistent.  John  is  a  Friend." 
-  "  True ;  but  had  he  been  of  any  other  persuasion,  Dor- 
othy, I  should  have  married  him.  A  higher  law  drew 
us  together — a  closer  tie  bound  us — than  the  mere  fact 
that  we  two  had  been  brought  up  to  call  our  religious 
opinions  by  one  name.  But  while  I  am  sermonising 
about  him  I  am  forgetting  it  is  time  to  go  and  meet  him ; 
so  put  on  your  bonnet  quickly,  dear.  I  daresay  we  shall 
find  he  has  brought  the  things  we  ordered  on  Wednes- 
day." 

Mr.  Hanbury  had  the  boxes  with  him,  and  as  soon  as 
they  reached  the  Grange  their  contents  were  displayed, 
to  Dorothy's  great  delight. 

"  Oh,  Grace !"  she  exclaimed,  after  they  had  under- 
gone minute  inspection ;  "  are  they  not  pretty  ?  I  hope  I 
am  not  unduly  set  upon  them." 

"  My  dear  child,"  answered  Grace,  "  don't  think  of 
such  things ;  look  upon  the  enjoyment  of  such  trifles  as 
small  womanly  pleasures,  allowable  to  beings  who  can 
set  their  aims  and  affections  on  higher  things." 

Mr.  Hanbury's  return  put  a  stop  to  further  conver- 
sation between  the  sisters,  especially  as  Grace  wanted 
to  hear  the  news  of  the  day  from  her  husband,  who  at 
length  said, — 

"  By  the  way,  I  had  a  note  from  Captain  Verschoyle, 
asking  me  to  dine  at  his  club  with  him  on  Friday.  Shall 
I  accept?" 

"  Oh,  do,"  answered  Grace ;  "  I  should  like  you  to 
go ;  you  took  a  fancy  to  him,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  you  liked  him  too  ?" 

"  Very  much ;  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  met  such  a 
thoroughly  agreeable  gentleman."    ,  > 


DOROTHY   FOX  199 

And  the  next  day,  when  she  and  Dorothy  were  sit- 
ting together,  she  again  referred  to  the  invitation,  say- 
ing, "  I  am  so  glad  John  is  going  to  dine  with  Captain 
Verschoyle;  I  have  told  him  to  ask  him  down  here 
again." 

Though  Dorothy  only  gave  a  grave  little  nod  of  as- 
sent, she  was  by  no  means  indifferent;  her  heart  beat 
quicker,  and  she  seemed  to  be  suddenly  filled  with  a 
joyousness  that  made  all  around  her  look  bright  and  gay. 
"  I  wish  thou  couldst  see  his  sister,  Grace,"  she  said, 
after  a  pause,  *'  she  is  so  beautiful ;  her  name  is  Audrey 
• — is  it  not  pretty  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  an  old-fashioned,  quaint  name.  What  an 
odd  thing  your  meeting  with  them  was,  and  then  by  mis- 
take, and  his  coming  here — altogether  a  complete  adven- 
ture. But  how  was  it  that  you  happened  to  be  in  the 
shop?" 

"  I  was  waiting  for  Judith ;"  and  Dorothy  began  to 
give  a  minute  description  of  the  event.  She  had  for- 
gotten everything,  so  interested  was  she  in  the  story, 
when  the  door  was  opened  and  a  servant  announced 
"  Mr.  Josiah  Crewdson." 


CHAPTER   XX 

DOUBTFUL   PROGRESS 

Surprised  at  this  unexpected  arrival,  Dorothy  started 
up,  but  stood  still ;  while  Grace  advanced  to  meet  her 
visitor.  All  Josiah's  courage  had  forsaken  him,  and  he 
was  unable  to  utter  a  v^^ord.  He  stood  at  the  drawing- 
room  door  apparently  in  great  danger  of  blushing  him- 
self into  an  apoplectic  fit.  He  certainly  did  not  present 
himself  in  a  favourable  aspect;  and  Grace  thought, 
"  The  idea  of  any  girl  falling  in  love  with  him  is  pre- 
posterous ;  we  must  put  an  end  to  this ;"  but  neverthe- 
less she  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  saying, — 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Crewdson ;  our  fami- 
lies have  been  friends  for  so  many  years  that  we  cannot 
be  strangers  to  each  other." 

By  this  time  Dorothy  had  recovered  herself,  and  ex- 
pressed her  great  astonishment  at  seeing  him. 

"  Did  father  know  that  thou  wert  coming?" 

"  No,"  said  Josiah ;  "  I  had  some  business — at  least, 
it  was  not  exactly  business;  but  I  heard  that  thou  wert 
here."  Then,  seeing  a  smile  on  Grace's  face,  he  added, 
in  confusion,  "  Not  that  I  came  up  for  that,  thou  know- 
est;  but  I  very  often  come  to  London — at  least,  not 
very  often — but  I  have  been  once  before." 

Dorothy  was  vexed  at  his  awkwardness,  and  wished 
that  he  had  appeared  to  more  advantage  before  her  sis- 
ter. Grace,  however,  did  not  seem  to  observe  it,  but 
commenced  to  relate  what  the  journey  from  Leeds  to 
I-,ondon  used  to  be,  and  how  well  she  remembered  hear- 
200 


DOROTHY   FOX  ^1: 

ing  Josiah's  father  speak  of  being  attacked  by  highway-: 
men  on  the  road.  By  the  time  she  had  finished,  Josiah 
felt  somewliat  more  at  his  ease,  although  he  still  sat  in 
a  most  uncomfortable  position  on  a  chair  just  inside  the 
door,  under  which  he  had  deposited  his  hat. 

"  I  hope  you  will  have  luncheon  with  us,"  said  Grace. 
Josiah  looked  at  Dorothy,  and  Grace  added,  "  Dorothy 
will  show  you  the  garden  and  the  forest,  which  are  very 
pretty." 

"  Thank  thee ;  I  should  like  to  stay  very  much,  if  I 
am  not  putting  anybody  to  inconvenience." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  am  sure  I  can  answer  for  Doro- 
thy ;"  and  Grace  gave  her  a  significant  look  to  say  some- 
thing, for,  as  she  said  afterwards,  she  pitied  the  poor 
young  man. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  very  glad !"  said  Dorothy.  "  Do  stay, 
Josiah." 

Josiah's  face  beamed  with  satisfaction,  and  he  gave  a 
little  sigh  of  relief. 

"  And  come  nearer  the  fire,"  Grace  continued ;  "  it  is 
rather  chilly  to-day.  Take  my  place,  for  I  must  speak  to 
nurse  before  she  goes  out." 

So  she  went  off  and  left  them  together. 

Dorothy  did  not  speak  for  a  little;  then  she  looked 
up  and  saw  that  Josiah's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Why  dost  thou  stare  at  me  ?"  she  asked,  looking 
straight  at  him  with  a  half-saucy  expression. 

"  Because  I  cannot  help  it.  Oh,  Dorothy,  thou  must 
not  be  vexed  with  me,  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  thee 
all  the  day  long.    I  try  to  forget  thee,  but  it's  of  no  use." 

Dorothy  Fox  had  naturally  a  great  deal  of  the  coquette 
in  her,  and  though  she  could  not  return  Josiah's  affec- 
tion, it  was  not  unpleasant  to  her.  She  had  been  taught 
to  set  no  value  on  personal  appearance,  and  to  disregard 


202  DOROTHY   FOX 

every  attention  to  dress  which  was  not  necessary  to  neat-^ 
ness  and  order.  She  had  been  taught  to  look  upon  fashion 
as  the  worldly  name  of  an  engrossing  sin  invented  by 
the  devil  "  to  lead  captive  the  fancy  of  silly  men  and 
women;"  and  as  for  gay  colours,  they  were  the  badges 
of  slavery  to  this  tyrant,  who  drew  his  victims  step  by 
step  into  a  vortex  of  frivolous  gaiety,  in  which  they  spent 
their  youth  in  folly  and  their  old  age  in  regret. 

Notwithstanding  this  teaching,  Dorothy  was  truer  to 
her  nature  than  to  her  education ;  and  the  girl  looked 
on  her  fair  face  and  rejoiced,  and  could  not  check  the 
desire  to  wear  the  pretty  colours  which  the  flowers,  the 
sea,  and  the  sky  suggested  to  her. 

Josiah  Crewdson  assuredly  was  not  her  ideal  of  a 
lover,  still  it  was  very  pleasant  to  hear  him  say  that 
he  could  not  help  thinking  of  her;  to  know,  as  she 
did,  that  he  loved  her,  and  that  this  love  had  brought 
him  from  Leeds  to  see  her.  These  reflections  caused 
her  to  look  down  for  a  moment,  and  then  to  answer, 
demurely, — 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  should  engross  so  much  of  thy 
thoughts,  Josiah,  and  I  am  puzzled  to  understand  the 
reason.  What  makes  thee  think  of  me?"  and  she  gravely 
regarded  Josiah,  whose  whole  energies  seemed  bent  upon 
endeavouring  to  pull  oft'  separately  the  fingers  of  his 
black-and-white  silk  gloves,  which  he  had  previously 
held  so  tightly  in  his  hands. 

"  Because  I  love  thee  so  much,  and  I  want  thee  to  love 
me,  Dorothy !  Thou  wilt  try  ?  If  only  a  little,  I  shall  be 
so  happy.  I  don't  know  what  I  am  about  now ;  I  keep 
on  doing  all  sorts  of  foolish  things.  I  forget  to  send 
letters,  and  I  add  up  figures  wrong,  and  I  don't  order 
the  things  sisters  ask  me  to  bring  with  me  from  town." 

"  Oh,  Josiah !   how  wrong !    Thy  sisters  have  a  right, 


DOROTHY   FOX  203: 

then,  to  be  displeased  with  thee,  and  there  is  some  ex- 
cuse for  them  when  they  are  cross." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  they  are  cross  or  pleased,"  ex- 
claimed Josiah,  throwing  down  his  gloves  and  coming 
nearer  to  Dorothy.  "  If  thou  wilt  only  say  some  day  thou 
wilt  marry  me,  Dorothy,  I  will  do  everything  that  thou 
wishest,  and  never  forget  a  single  thing  thou  tellest  me. 
But  when  I  think  what  an  ugly,  stupid  fellow  I  am,  and 
thou  so  clever  and  so  beautiful,  oh !  I  could  do  anything 
then.  Why,  I  went  into  the  Cloth  Hall  with  my  um- 
brella up  the  other  day.  Don't  laugh  at  me,  Dorothy; 
it  was  because  I  was  thinking  of  thee,  and  how  I  should 
manage  to  see  thee  before  the  time  thy  father  named." 

Dorothy  gave  full  vent  to  her  merriment,  and  when- 
ever Josiah  attempted  to  renew  his  protestations,  he  was 
interrupted  by  a  fresh  burst  of  laughter. 

"  How  fortunate  it  is  that  thy  business  has  obliged 
thee  to  come  to  London !"  she  said  at  length. 

"  Ah,  thou  knowest  thou  wert  my  business.  Kezia 
and  Jemima  did  all  they  could  to  find  out  why  I  was 
coming,  but  I  wouldn't  tell  them;  I  said  that  I  had  to 
settle  some  money  matters." 

"  Josiah,  I  fear  thou  hast  not  been  truthful ;  deceiving 
thy  sisters  is  not  acting  up  to  our  principles." 

"  Well,  but  I  can  settle  some  money  business,"  replied 
Josiah,  ruefully.  "  And  if  thou  wilt  only  say  that  thou 
art  trying  to  care  for  me,  I  will  tell  them  that  I  saw 
thee,  or  anything  that  thou  thinkest  is  proper." 

Dorothy  looked  down  hesitatingly,  and  pinched  up  the 
frill  of  her  white  muslin  apron,  while  Josiah  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  eager  anxiety. 

"  I  told  thee  I  liked  thee,  Josiah,"  said  Dorothy  at 
length ;  "  but,  of  course,  that  is  not  saying  I. could  marry; 
thee." 


204  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  But,"  gasped  Josiah,  "  thou  dost  not  say  thou  won't, 
Dorothy.  Do  say  that  perhaps  one  day  thou  mayest.  I 
have  never  had  anybody  to  love  me,  and  I  do  love  thee 
so  much.  I  didn't  know  what  love  was,  but  since  I  was 
at  King's-heart  I  have  been  so  miserable." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  thou  must  be  very  sorry  thou  wert 
there." 

"  No,  I  am  not.  I  should  not  be  sorry  even  if  thou 
couldst  never  care  a  bit  for  me;  because,  somehow,  I 
am  different.  When  I  am  by  myself  I  am  not  dull  and 
stupid,  such  as  I  was  before  I  knew  thee.  I  can  think 
about  thee,  and  what  I  would  do  for  thee,  and  how  I 
would  love  thee;  and  instead  of  being  wearied  I  am 
quite  happy,  and  glad  when  nobody  is  near  to  distract 
my  thoughts.    Dorothy,  only  say  thou  wilt  try !" 

"  Yes,  I  will  try.  I  told  father  I  would  try.  But  thou 
must  not  take  that  as  an  assurance  that  I  mean  to  marry 
thee,  Josiah,  because  I  don't  feel  at  all  like  that.  In- 
deed," she  added,  with  a  little  air  of  despondency,  "  I  am 
not  certain  that  I  shall  marry  at  all.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  shall  be  an  old  maid,  like  Dorcas  Horsenail." 

Josiah  shook  his  head.  "  Thou  wilt  never  be  like  her," 
he  said. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,"  answered  Josiah,  simply,  "  those  good 
"women  have  not  got  faces  and  ways  like  thine." 

At  this  moment  Grace  tapped  at  the  window,  saying, 
"  Dolly,  the  children  want  you  to  have  a  romp  with  them 
in  the  garden,  and  perhaps  Mr.  Crewdson  will  come  out 
with  you.  We  shall  have  luncheon  soon,  and  after  that 
we  will  go  for  a  drive." 

So,  until  luncheon  was  announced,  Grace  took  pos- 
session of  Josiah,  walking  round  the  garden  with  him, 
and  asking  him  about  her  old  friends  and  his  relations, 


DOROTHY   FOX  205 

■and  making  him  forget  for  the  time  his  awkwardness 
and  bashfulness.  She  perceived  the  truth  of  her  mother's 
remarks  about  Josiah.  'He  was  very  amiable,  but  quite 
unable  to  inspire  love  in  such  a  girl  as  Dorothy. 

The  drive  went  off  so  successfully  that  Josiah  was  too 
happy  even  to  think  about  those  personal  deficiencies 
which  generally  formed  a  barrier  to  his  peace  of  mind 
when  in  company.  The  children  were  friends  with  him 
at  once,  and  Dorothy  laughed,  and  talked  to  him  with- 
out reserve,  and  to  his  great  delight  said  she  would  like 
to  visit  his  sisters.  So  in  another  month  there  was  every 
prospect  that  he  would  meet  her  again. 
•  Mrs.  Hanbury  watched  them  until  she  had  grave 
doubts  whether,  after  all,  Dorothy  would  not  become 
Mrs.  Josiah  Crewdson.  "  She  certainly  gives  him  en- 
couragement," thought  she,  "  and  the  poor  fellow  has 
evidently  lost  his  heart  to  her." 

During  the  drive  home  Dorothy  laughed,  and  teased 
Josiah  until  Grace  thought  that  she  had  a  very  decided 
regard  for  him.  She  was  still  engrossed  with  such 
thoughts  when  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  where, 
instead  of  the  servant,  stood  Captain  Verschoyle. 

Had  Dorothy  known  that  she  was  going  to  see  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  she  could  not  have  desired  to  look  bet- 
ter. The  fresh  air  and  her  cheerfulness  had  heightened 
her  colour  and  made  her  eyes  brighter  even  than  usual. 
Captain  Verschoyle  thought  he  had  never  seen  any  one 
so  lovely;  and  though  he  addressed  his  first  greetings 
to  Mrs.  Hanbury,  he  could  hardly  divert  his  attention 
for  a  moment  from  Dorothy.  While  Josiah  was  stand- 
ing waiting  until  Dorothy  should  give  some  sign  that 
she  required  his  assistance.  Captain  Verschoyle  walked 
round  to  the  other  side  of  the  carriage,  and,  quite  ig- 
noring him,  took  her  hands,  and,  though  it  was  not  neces- 


2o6  DOROTHY   FOX 

sary,  almost  lifted  her  out,  and  accompanied  her  to  the 
drawing-room. 

For  some  time  the  conversation  was  entirely  about 
Captain  Verschoyle  and  how  he  had  been  spending  his 
time  since  they  last  saw  him  at  Fryston.  Grace  begged 
him  to  stay  to  dinner,  but  he  said  he  had  an  engagement. 
"  You  will  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  us  then  ?"  she  said ; 
and  perceiving  that  Josiah  had  been  overlooked,  she  asked 
him  to  ring  the  bell,  saying  to  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  Our 
friend  Mr.  Crewdson  is  obliged  to  return  by  the  six 
train,  so  I  can  drive  you  both  to  the  station  when  I  go 
for  John." 

Captain  Verschoyle  bowed  to  Josiah,  who,  to  Doro- 
thy's vexation,  took  no  notice  of  him.  Very  soon  tea 
was  brought  in,  and  then  poor  Josiah,  whose  star  had 
been  gradually  waning  ever  since  this  dazzling  sun  had 
made  his  appearance,  was  suddenly  extinguished.  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  walked  about,  attending  and  talking  to 
the  ladies,  and  finally  took  his  cup  of  tea  and  drank  it 
standing,  as  Dorothy  thought,  in  the  most  graceful  man- 
ner, while  Josiah,  made  doubly  awkward  with  a  cup  of 
tea  and  no  table,  and  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter  without 
a  plate,  sat  silently  eating  and  drinking,  his  coloured  silk 
handkerchief  spread  over  his  knees. 

Captain  Verschoyle,  after  the  momentary  glance  he 
gave  Josiah  when  introduced,  took  no  further  notice  of 
him.  But,  to  Dorothy's  imagination,  he  was  looking  at 
and  remarking  upon  every  small  peculiarity  which  her 
unfortunate  lover  possessed ;  and  she  felt  so  vexed  and 
annoyed  with  Josiah  that  she  longed  to  say  something 
cross  to  him.  But  no  opportunity  occurred;  for  except 
when  he  was  particularly  addressed,  Josiah  was  dumb; 
and  besides.  Captain  Verschoyle  was  constantly  including 
her,  in  the  conversation,  and  thus  attracting  her  attention 


DOROTHY   FOX  207 

to  himself.  At  length,  the  subject  of  art  being  intro- 
duced, he  asked  Mrs.  Hanbury  if  she  had  seen  some 
celebrated  paintings  at  Spencer  House ;  and  finding  that 
she  had  not,  he  said,  "  Would  you  like  to  see  them  ?  I 
know  I  can  get  admission,  and  I  should  so  like  to  show 
them  to  you  and  Miss  Fox.  Will  you  come  on  Satur- 
day? Mr.  Hanbury  is  to  dine  with  me  to-morrow,  and 
then  we  can  arrange  it." 

Grace  said  she  would  be  delighted,  and  Dorothy  looked 
so  radiant  that  Captain  Verschoyle  felt  inclined  to  offer 
to  take  them  to  every  gallery  in  London.  He  turned  to 
Grace,  saying,  ruefully,  "  Is  it  not  too  bad  ?  here  I  am 
in  London,  wanting  to  see  all  the  sights,  and  nobody 
will  accompany  me.  Have  you  been  everywhere,  Miss 
Fox?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  replied  Grace.  "  We  have  been  no- 
where yet,  but  John  has  promised  to  take  us.  I  want 
Dolly  to  see  all  she  can  while  she  is  with  us." 

"  Then,  Miss  Fox,  will  you  have  pity  on  me,  and 
get  Mrs.  Hanbury  to  include  me  in  some  of  her  excur- 
sions ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dorothy,  looking  at  him  shyly ;  "  but  thou 
hadst  better  ask  Grace  herself." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  very  happy,"  laughed  Grace ;  "  but  I 
fear  our  pleasures  will  be  rather  tame  to  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  Mrs.  Hanbury ;  I  really  mean 
what  I  say.  I  want  to  see  some  of  the  London  sights, 
and  I  cannot  go  alone.  You  forget  how  long  I  have  been 
away  from  England." 

Josiah  here  took  out  his  watch,  giving  Grace  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  him. 

"  What  is  the  time  ?" 

"  A  quarter-past  five." 


2o8  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Too  soon  to  be  thinking  of  going.  The  train  does 
not  start  until  five  minutes  after  six." 

"  I  was  just  about  to  propose,  if  you  are  not  too  tired, 
that  you  and  Miss  Fox  would  honour  us  by  walking  to 
the  station,  and  your  carriage  could  follow  and  bring 
you  back,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle. 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  much  nicer,"  exclaimed  Dorothy. 
"Wilt  thou  do  it,  Grace?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't,  as  I  am  a  little  tired ;  but  you 
might  go,  dear.  I  would  be  at  the  station  before  the 
train  leaves." 

While  Dorothy  went  off  to  get  ready,  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle continued  talking  to  Grace,  and  Josiah  dolefully 
thought  that  now  he  should  have  no  opportunity  of  say- 
ing another  word  to  Dorothy.  Perhaps  at  the  station 
she  might  say  something  to  him,  but  on  the  way  this 
man,  towards  whom  Josiah  had  taken  a  great  dislike, 
would  doubtless  monopolize  her.  Then  he  could  not  stay 
beyond  the  sixth  day.  He  had  not  courage  enough  to 
come  again  the  next  day,  so  he  should  not  see  her.  How 
provoking  that  this  person  should  have  come!  But  she 
had  been  kinder  to  him,  and  had  promised  to  visit  them. 
Still,  his  heart  had  lost  its  lightness;  she  seemed  more 
beautiful  than  ever,  and  he  more  stupid,  by  comparison 
with  this  stranger. 

Grace  was  not  in  the  room  when  Dorothy  returned. 
Josiah  arose,  took  his  hat  from  under  his  chair,  and 
stood  waiting  to  accompany  them.  But  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle, who  had  decided  against  a  third  person  accom- 
panying them  in  their  walk,  turned  to  him  as  they  were 
following  Dorothy,  and  said, — 

"  Of  course  you  will  wait  and  take  care  of  Mrs.  Han- 
bury  ;"  and  so  Josiah  was  left  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
where  Grace  found  him,  and  td  his  astonishment  said, 


DOROTHY   FOX  209 

**  I  am  so  sorry  you  thought  it  necessary  to  wait  for  me. 
You  should  have  gone  with  Dorothy;  I  drive  down 
alone  almost  every  day." 

When  they  all  met  at  the  station  Josiah  found  no  op- 
portunity to  say  more  than  "  Farewell."  Grace  gave 
him  a  general  invitation  to  come  and  see  them  whenever 
he  came  to  town.  Captain  Verschoyle  stood  talking  until 
the  train  was  just  starting;  then  he  said,  turning  to 
Josiah,  "  Do  you  smoke  ?  No  ?  Then  good-bye !"  and  got 
into  another  carriage,  and  the  long-looked-for  meeting 
was  over. 

When  Mr.  Hanbury  returned  from  business  the  vis- 
itors were  mentioned,  and  also  the  invitation  given  by 
Captain  Verschoyle. 

"  Hast  thou  accepted,  Grace  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Conditionally,  dear,  that  thou  hadst  no  engagement." 

"  No,  if  Dolly  and  thou  would  like  to  go,  I  shall  be  at 
your  service." 

"  Then  we  will  decide  upon  going,"  said  Grace. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !"  exclaimed  Dorothy.  "  Is  it  not 
fortunate,  Grace,  that  I  have  my  new  dress  and  bonnet?" 

"  Oh,  woman,  woman !"  laughed  John  Hanbury. 
**  What  matters  it  whether  thou  art  a  strict  Friend,  a 
Parisian  belle,  or  an  Indian  squaw? — nature  has  im- 
planted in  thee  a  love  of  adornment  and  dress  which  no 
sect  can  overcome  and  no  training  extinguish." 


CHAPTER   XXI 

ART   AND   NATURE 

"  Well,  Audrey,  you  may  be  a  very  entertaining  com- 
panion to  some  people,  but  certainly  you  never  give  your 
mother  any  opportunity  of  judging  of  your  talents.  I 
thought  I  would  just  see  how  long  you  would  remain 
silent,  and  it  is  twenty  minutes  since  you  last  spoke. 
Perhaps  had  I  not  said  anything  it  would  have  been 
twenty  minutes  more  before  you  would  have  uttered  a 
word." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mamma ;   I  was  thinking." 

"  Thinking,  indeed !"  echoed  Lady  Laura.  "  I  wish 
you  would  think  a  little  of  me ;  but  I  am  the  last  person 
my  children  ever  consider.  I  have  ruined  my  health, 
and  toiled  and  slaved  all  my  life,  and  my  devotion  is 
rewarded  with  contempt  and  ingratitude.  I  know  I 
cannot  stand  it  much  longer,  and  it  is  very  hard  to  bear ;" 
and  here  Lady  Laura  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  in  a  manner  that  threatened  a  scene. 

"  Mamma,  you  have  no  right  to  say  such  things  of  us. 
I  am  sure  I  always  try  to  do  what  pleases  you." 

"  Indeed !  Do  you  ?  And  I  suppose  I  shall  hear  next 
that  your  cruel,  heartless  brother  does  the  same." 

"  Well,  Charlie  would  be  very  sorry  to  vex  you ;  but 
if  he  knew  he  couldn't  like  Miss  Bingham " 

"  Now,  Audrey,  if  you  are  bent  upon  irritating  me,  I 
desire  that  you  will  leave  the  room;  my  nerves  can't 
stand  it.  Like  Miss  Bingham,  indeed !  I  should  like  to 
know  how  long  you  have  taken  to  consider  matrimony 

2IJ 


DOROTHY   FOX  21 1 

in  this  new  light.  Charles  knew  that  I  used  every  effort 
to  introduce  him  to  a  nice-looking  girl  with  ^50,000  of 
her  own,  besides  expectations.  She  immediately  fell  in 
love  with  him,  received  his  very  pointed  attentions  most 
graciously,  and  then,  when  everything  was  going  on 
smoothly,  suddenly  he  takes  some  ridiculous  idea  into 
his  head  that  he  is  afraid  he  cannot  love  her,  and  he  must 
go  away  to  prove  his  passion.  Well,  all  the  time  he  is 
absent  I  entirely  sacrifice  myself  to  his  interests,  never 
leaving  her ;  and  let  me  tell  you  it's  not  so  very  agreeable 
to  be  tied  down  to  a  namby-pamby  girl  from  morning  till 
night ;  no  one  but  a  mother  would  do  it." 

"  But,  mamma,  you  forget  you  wanted  Charlie  to  take 
this  same  girl  for  life." 

"  I  want  no  argument,  Audrey,  and  it  is  only  your 
perverse  temper  that  makes  you  defend  him.  You  know 
perfectly  well  what  I  mean.  The  idea  of  a  man  in  his 
position  throwing  away  such  a  chance ;  and  really,  thirty- 
two  is  rather  late  to  begin  to  have  these  romantic  feelings. 
I'll  never  believe  that  his  want  of  love  is  his  only  reason ; 
the  idea  is  too  ridiculous.  No,  I  am  certain  that  he  has 
some  horrid  entanglement,  or  infatuation,  which  will 
burst  upon  us  suddenly.  I  am  quite  prepared  for  any- 
thing; perhaps  it's  a  housemaid  or  a  cook." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  don't  be  so  absurd !" 

"  I  don't  see  that  it's  at  all  absurd,  Audrey.  After  the 
pointed  manner  in  which  he  made  every  one  believe  he 
was  going  to  marry  Miss  Bingham,  I  feel  ashamed  to 
meet  the  people." 

"  You  need  not,  I  am  sure.  I  never  saw  any  of  this 
pointed  attention  you  speak  of;  he  was  polite  to  her,  but 
not  more  so  than  I  have  seen  him  to  dozens  of  girls." 

"  Then  all  I  can  say  is,  you  have  gone  about  with  your 
eyes  shut.    If  people  had  been  so  blind  as  you,  how  was 


212  DOROTHY   FOX 

it  that  Mr.  Dynecourt,  who  was  dying  to  get  her,  should 
go  off  the  very  day  he  heard  Charles  was  coming  back  ?'' 

"  Do  you  think  that  was  the  reason  of  Mr.  Dyne- 
court's  leaving?" 

"  I  don't  need  to  think  about  it ;  it  was  quite  apparent 
to  every  one.  Mr.  Ford,  in  his  good-natured  way,  asked 
young  Dynecourt  here  to  meet  Miss  Bingham.  No 
doubt,  when  Charles  went  away,  he  thought  everything 
was  in  his  own  hands,  but  he  had  sense  enough  to  know 
that  he  had  no  chance  when  your  brother  returned,  and 
so  gave  it  up.  I  never  saw  any  one  behave  more  ab- 
surdly, for,  of  course,  by  going  away  so  suddenly  he 
made  every  one  aware  of  his  design." 

"  As  Charles  does  not  intend  to  possess  himself  of  this 
coveted  treasure,  it  is  a  pity  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  should 
also  be  disappointed,"  said  Audrey,  in  a  scornful  voice. 
"  Would  it  not  be  only  fair  to  send  him  a  recall  ?" 

"  It  is  quite  immaterial  to  me  whether  he  returns  or 
not.  I  said  to  Mr.  Ford  that  I  feared  his  young  friend 
was  a  little  disappointed,  and  he  asked  me  if  I  had  any 
reason  for  supposing  so.  He  evidently  did  not  wish  it 
to  be  mentioned,  as  he  pretended  to  be  amazed  at  me  for 
thinking  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  admired  Miss  Bingham." 

"  Who  then  did  Mr.  Ford  think  he  admired  ?"  asked 
Audrey,  quickly. 

"  I  couldn't  make  out,"  returned  Lady  Laura.  "  By 
the  way,  I  think  it  is  time  you  settled  matters  there." 

"  So  do  I,"  returned  her  daughter. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  do  so  ?  Surely  the  matter  lies 
with  yourself,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  it  decided, 
for  this  disappointment  about  Charles  has  quite  upset 
me.    I  feel  nervous  about  everything." 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  very  hard  upon  you  if  my  scheme 
turned  out  to  be  a  failure.    But  there  is  no  fear  of  that. 


DOROTHY   FOX  it^ 

mamma;  I  cannot  afford  to  let  likes  and  dislikes  inter- 
fere with  my  settlement  in  life,  can  I?" 

"  Nobody  with  proper  sense  ever  would  allow  such 
feelings  to  overrule  their  judgment.  I  am  not  afraid  of 
you  there,  my  love,  but  I  think  it  is  time  to  have  the  offer 
made  formally,  for,  with  that  exception,  I  look  upon  it 
as  settled.  I  do  not  see  how  he  could  draw  back  now  if 
he  wished,  and  I  am  sure  that  that  is  not  likely." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  will  ever  repent  of  marrying  me, 
mamma  ?" 

"  Well,"  returned  her  ladyship,  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders,  "  once  married  it  does  not  matter ;  but  if  he 
does  he  will  be  very  ungrateful,  I  think.  I  do  not  know 
where  he  could  have  done  so  well.  We  have  unexcep- 
tionable connections,  and  every  opportunity  of  being  in 
the  best  set,  and  you  are  very  handsome  and  wonderfully 
fascinating  when  you  please,  although  you  have  not 
looked  at  all  well  this  last  week." 

"  Have  I  not  ?  But  what  does  it  matter  ?  When  I  am 
Mrs.  Ford  I  shall  even  be  able  to  indulge  in  looking 
plain." 

"  That's  quite  a  mistake,"  replied  Lady  Laura.  "  There 
is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  have  as  many  admirers 
then  as  now." 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  rather  a  dangerous  luxury,  which 
even  money  had  better  forego?" 

"Of  course  you  know,  Audrey,  no  one  can  be  stricter 
than  I  am;  I  make  a  point  of  never  forgetting  a  slur 
on  any  one's  reputation.  But  when  an  old  man  mar- 
ries an  elegant  woman  young  enough  to  be  his  daugh- 
ter, he  cannot  suppose  she  is  going  to  shut  herself  up 
with  him,  and  never  speak  to  any  other." 

Audrey  sat  silently  looking  out  of  the  window  for 
some  minutes,  then  she  suddenly  exclaimed;  "  Oh,  money. 


214  DOROTHY   FOX 

money,  what  a  curse  it  is!  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  I 
was  that  farm-girl  outside!" 

"  Gracious  me !  What  for  ?"  asked  Lady  Laura,  sur- 
prised at  this  sudden  outburst. 

"  Because,  perhaps,  I  should  win  the  affections  of  some 
country  bumpkin,  and  we  should  love  each  other  with  all 
our  vulgar  hearts,  and,  knowing  no  more  refined  motive, 
marry  and  be  happy." 

"  Happy !  with  a  dozen  children  in  a  hovel,  eating  fat 
bacon,  and  at  last  dying  in  the  workhouse !  Really,  for 
a  girl  brought  up  as  you  have  been,  that  is  an  odd  notion 
of  happiness.  My  dear,  these  speeches  are  very  telling 
when  well  said  in  private  theatricals,  but  in  real  life  they 
are  too  weak  and  absurd." 

"  So  they  are ;  but  so  am  I,  just  now." 

"  Then  have  a  little  wine  or  sal-volatile,  but  pray  don't 
lead  people  to  suppose  that  you  are  mad." 

Audrey  started  up  and  said,  abruptly,  "  I  think  I  shall 
take  a  walk  in  the  grounds  for  an  hour,  and  by  that  time 
Mr.  Ford  will  have  returned,  and  I  shall  be  better  able 
to  make  myself  agreeable  to  him." 

"  Do  so,"  answered  Lady  Laura,  with  a  relieved  look. 
"  Will  you  take  Marshall  with  you  ?" 

*'  No,  I  shall  go  alone." 

"  Take  care  to  be  back  in  time  for  Mr.  Ford,  or  I  shall 
have  to  go  to  him,  and  I  want  to  write  another  letter  to 
Charles;  he  said  he  should  leave  Harrogate  to-day,  but 
that  was  only  to  prevent  me  writing.  I  shall  direct  my 
letter  to  him  as  usual,  and  show  him  that  I  see  through 
his  pretext." 

Audrey  was  soon  dressed  and  walking  rapidly  along 
the  paths,  which,  all  new  to  her  as  they  were  a  week 
before,  were  now  quite  familiar.  She  bent  her  steps  to 
the  "  Saint.'s  Well,"  sat  down  on  the  wooden  seat,  and 


DOROTHY   FOX  21$ 

g^ve  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  "  Now,"  she  said  to  herself j 
"  I  can  dismiss  my  smiles  and  be  as  miserable  as  I 
please." 

"  Gone !"  in  that  word  lay  her  grief.  Gone ! — in  anger, 
in  sorrow,  in  contempt  of  her,  in  hatred  by  this  time, 
thinking  with  loathing  of  her;  and  she — alas,  poor  Au- 
drey! what  storms  and  tempests  of  love  had  swept  over 
her!  She  had  tried  to  reason  with  herself,  to  ask  why 
she  loved  him.  What  demon  had  cursed  her  with  this 
sudden  passion  ?  All  to  no  purpose ;  she  had  no  answer 
to  give.  She  had  seen  for  some  time  her  danger,  but, 
being  convinced  that  she  stood  upon  a  rock,  she  had 
braved  it,  even  courted  it,  until  at  her  last  meeting  with 
Geoffrey  Dynecourt,  his  great  love,  his  withering  scorn, 
his  passionate  farewell  had  undone  her.  Instead  of  a 
rock,  she  saw  too  late  that  she  had  been  standing  upon 
sand,  which  the  tide  of  love  had  suddenly  swept  away. 
How  she  revolted  from  marrying  Mr.  Ford  now!  Still, 
she  battled  with  herself;  and  after  indulging  in  some 
wild,  delicious  dream,  in  which  she  and  Geoffrey  Dyne- 
court  lived  only  for  one  another,  she  would  start  up  and 
declare  it  could  not  be,  she  must  be  mad.  Did  she  not 
know,  had  she  not  said  all  her  life,  that  when  she  mar- 
ried it  should  be  for  money?  Nothing  else  could  give 
her  happiness.  Was  not  this  the  temptation  of  some 
fiend  ?  Would  she  not  awaken  from  the  spell  to  find  she 
had  thrown  away  all  real  pleasure  and  secured  nothing 
in  its  stead?  She  must  overcome  it;  but  could  she  only 
have  seen  him  again,  talked  to  him  calmly,  told  him  of 
her  feelings,  it  would  not  be  so  hard,  so  bitter.  She  was 
resolved  she  would  put  retreat  out  of  her  power;  she 
would  meet  Mr.  Ford  and  settle  her  fate  that  very  after- 
noon, no  matter  how  she  suffered  afterwards.  Was  it 
not  enough  to  know  that  marriage  with  Geoffrey  Dyne- 


2i6  DOROTHY   FOX 

court  was  impossible?  They  would  both  be  wretched. 
And  so  she  half  started  up,  and  then  sank  back  again^ 
and  sat  with  closed  eyes  and  softening  mouth,  until  a 
blush  suffused  her  face,  which  she  hid  in  her  hands, 
while  her  lips  pressed  hard  against  them,  as  she  rose 
quickly,  saying,  "  Oh,  why  is  love  so  cruel,  and  hard, 
and  bitter?" 

She  then  hurried  on  until  she  came  to  a  part  of  the 
grounds  which  commanded  the  road,  and  along  which 
Mr.  Ford  would  return. 

She  had  not  waited  many  minutes  before  the  sound  of 
wheels  told  her  he  was  near;  so  she  walked  down  to  the 
gate  and  stood  leaning  on  it.  Mr.  Ford  was  delighted  to 
see  her,  and  proposed  that  they  should  go  back  through 
the  fields. 

"Just  like  your  thoughtfulness,  my  dear  Miss  Ver- 
schoyle,  to  come  and  meet  me.  When  one  has  been  wor- 
ried and  busy  all  day,  it  is  very  refreshing  to  find  one 
expecting  you  and  waiting  to  welcome  you." 

Audrey  smiled,  and  asked  if  he  were  tired. 

"  No,  not  tired,  only  glad  to  get  back.  This  country 
life  unfits  one  for  a  day's  business,  and  I  begin  to  think 
it  quite  a  journey  to  London  now.  There  was  a  time 
when  seventy  or  eighty  miles  was  a  mere  nothing  to 
me. 

"  We  will  walk  slowly,"  she  said,  "  and  the  air  will 
soon  revive  you." 

"  My  dear,  the  sight  of  you  has  revived  me  more  than 
anything  else  could.  You  must  not  think  I  am  past 
being  delighted  and  proud  to  see  a  beautiful  young  lady 
taking  the  trouble  to  come  and  meet  me.  I  know  of  no 
young  fellow  who  wouldn't  envy  me." 

"  Oh,  you  are  wrong  there.  The  young  men  are  not 
very  gallant  in  our  day." 


DOROTHY   FOX.  217 

"  Now,  I  am  sure  you  have  no  reason  to  complain  of 
them,  whatever  their  general  conduct  may  be." 

"  No,  they  behave  very  well  to  me,"  said  Audrey, 
"  and  give  me  quite  as  much  attention  as  I  wish." 

"  Ah !   I  wish  I  were  only  one  of  them." 

"  Why  ?"  she  asked,  looking  at  him  smilingly. 

"  Because  I  would  soon  enter  the  lists  as  one  of  your 
admirers,  and  if  devotion  and  attention  could  win  your 
favour,  I  would  certainly  carry  off  the  prize." 

"  I  fear,"  she  answered,  gravely,  "  the  prize  would 
hardly  be  worth  having." 

"  I  cannot  permit  you  to  say  that,  though,  perhaps, 
you  scarcely  know  the  value  it  possesses  in  my  eyes. 
Take  my  arm,  my  dear  Miss  Verschoyle,  and  oblige  me 
by  listening  to  something  I  have  for  some  time  desired 
to  say  to  you." 

Oh,  it  was  coming  at  last!  She  would  have  to  say 
"  Yes,"  and  her  fate  would  be  decided  forever.  A  sharp 
pain  seemed  to  stab  her,  and  she  caught  her  breath  almost 
in  a  sob. 

Mr.  Ford  stopped ;  then,  seeing  how  pale  she  looked, 
he  became  alarmed. 

"  My  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  ill  ?  Do  you- 
feel  faint?    Lean  on  me;   rest  a  moment." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  answered.  "  Such  a  sudden  pain 
seized  my  side;   I  am  better  now." 

"  Yes,  but  I  see  you  are  suffering  still,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  anxiously.    "  You  have  been  doing  too  much." 

"  Indeed,  I  have  been  very  quiet  all  day,  but  I  have 
not  been  well  for  the  last  week." 

"  I  noticed  you  were  looking  pale.  We  must  have  Dr. 
Morcambe  to  see  you ;  he  will  soon  put  you  right.  It 
would  never  do  to  allow  the  flower  of  our  party  to  droop. 
I  daresay  it  is  the  weather,"  continued  the  old  man,  while 


2i8  DOROTHY   FOX. 

Audrey  strove  with  her  rebellious  heart,  and  tried  to 
bring  it  to  obedience.  "  These  changes  at  the  end  of> 
autumn  are  very  trying,  and  the  past  week  has  been  as 
hot  as  July.  You  may  be  sure  it  has  affected  many  peo- 
ple. Why,  only  to-day  I  saw  our  friend  Mr.  Dyne- 
court,  and  really  he  was  so  altered  I  scarcely  knew  him 
to  be  the  same  man  who  left  us  only  a  week  ago ;  his 
face  was  thin  and  haggard,  and  he  looked  wretched,  just 
as  if  he  had  had  no  sleep  for  a  month.  I  was  quite  con- 
cerned, and  begged  him  to  see  a  doctor.  Still  he  declared 
there  was  nothing  wrong  with  him ;  but  that  is  nonsense. 
Why  should  he  suddenly  break  down  in  this  way?  Be- 
sides, he  was  evidently  depressed;  said  there  was  no 
chance  of  his  dying  just  yet;  that  he  wished  he  could 
go  to  sleep  for  a  year;  and  things  of  that  sort.  When- 
ever I  hear  that  from  a  young  person,  I  know  there  is 
something  wrong  with  the  mind  or  the  body." 

It  was  of  no  use;  Audrey's  will  was  strong,  but  this* 
new  feeling  was  stronger,  and  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts 
forced  the  hot  tears  from  her  eyes. 

"  My  poor  child,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  moved  to  pity  by 
the  look  of  suppressed  agony  in  the  white  face  before 
him. 

His  sympathy  broke  down  the  last  frail  barrier,  and 
Audrey  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Mr.  Ford  tried  to  console  her  by  saying,  "  Now,  never 
mind,  my  dear,  this  will  relieve  you;  you  are  a  little 
hysterical." 

After  a  time  she  recovered  sufficiently  to  apologise, 
saying,  "  I  am  really  quite  ashamed  of  myself.  I  do  not 
know  what  can  be  the  matter  with  me.  I  felt  very  well 
when  I  came  out.  Oh,  I  am  much  better.  I  can  walk 
back  now,  and  perhaps  if  I  lie  down  quietly  I  shall  be  all 
right  again." 


DOROTHY   FOX  219 

"  I  hope  so.  I  am  very  glad  I  was  with  you ;  this 
might  have  seized  you  when  alone." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  alarm  mamma,  she  is  so  very  ner- 
vous," said  Audrey ;  "  so  I  think  we  will  go  in  by  the 
turret  door,  and  then  I  can  reach  my  own  room  without 
being  seen.     Marshall  will  look  after  me." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear.  Now  do  try  and  get  a  little 
sleep,  and  then  after  dinner  you  may  be  quite  well ;  and 
if  not,  you  must  let  Dr.  Morcambe  visit  you.  Dear  me! 
This  is  a  sad  ending  to  our  pleasant  little  conversation, 
but  it  is  only  deferred.    All  in  good  time,  I  hope." 

She  endeavoured  to  say  something  polite  in  reply,  but 
what  it  was  she  could  not  tell.  She  only  longed  to  be 
alone,  to  wrestle  with  despair,  to  cry  out  in  her  agony, 
to  cherish  in  her  heart  the  hope  that  he  who  had  con- 
quered her  had  not  conquered  himself,  that  he  loved  her 
still  and  could  not  forget  her.  And  then  she  rained  bitter 
tears  over  his  grief,  his  pain,  his  disappointed  hopes. 
"  Oh,  my  love,  my  love !"  she  sobbed.  "  What  can  I  do? 
I  cannot  go  to  you,  I  cannot  tell  you  to  come  to  me.  I 
am  powerless."  After  a  time  she  became  calm,  and 
thought,  "  One  thing  is  certain ;  we  must  leave  this 
place.  If  I  stay  here  I  shall  refuse  that  man;  it  was  all. 
I  could  do  to-day  to  restrain  myself  from  telling  him 
that  I  could  never  care  for  him.  Perhaps  when  I  go 
back  to  the  old  dingy  house  and  shifting  ways  this  mad- 
ness will  leave  me.  What  will  mamma  say?  Whatever 
she  says,  I  must  tell  her — beg  her  to  save  me  from  my- 
self. She  will  think  I  have  gone  mad ;  sometimes  I 
think  so  too.  It  is  so  unaccountable,  so  sudden.  Will 
it  die  out  in  like  manner?  Oh,  I  wish  it  would — ^but  no, 
I  cannot  say  that,  for  at  the  bottom  of  my  cup  of  misery 
and  bitterness  lies  a  drop  so  sweet  that  it  is  life  to  taste 
it  and  death  to  destroy  it."  : 


220  DOROTHY   FOX 

Then,  hearing  some  one  enter  the  room,  she  said, 
"  Marshall,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  miss.    Are  you  ill  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  shall  not  go  down  to  dinner.  You  can  bring 
me  some  tea,  and  tell  mamma  not  to  come  up,  as  I  have 
a  bad  headache  and  wish  to  rest.  Say  I  have  seen  Mr. 
Ford,  and  he  knows  that  I  do  not  feel  well.  They  are 
not  to  send  for  Dr.  Morcambe,  as  I  am  sure  to  be  better 
in  the  morning." 

"  Very  well,  miss." 

Marshall  brought  up  the  tea,  gave  it  to  her  mistress, 
undid  her  hair,  and  put  on  her  dressing-gown. 

"  Now  you  will  feel  more  comfortable,"  she  said.  "  I 
daresay  it's  the  hot  weather.  I  heard  Mr.  Ford  telling 
Mrs.  Winterton  how  ill  Mr.  Dynecourt  was  looking."  And 
here  she  gave  a  sharp  look  of  inquiry.  "  I  was  so  sorry 
when  he  left,"  she  continued,  brushing  softly  Audrey's 
beautiful  dark  hair ;  "  he  is  such  a  nice  gentleman. 
Sometimes  I  used  to  think  he  was,  as  you  said,  quite 
handsome.  It's  a  thousand  pities  he  had  to  give  up  this 
place.  Do  you  know,  miss,  I  believe,  if  he'd  been  master 
of  it  still,  you  would  have  been  asked  to  be  mistress  quite 
as  much  as  you  will  be  now." 

"  What  makes  you  say  so  ?" 

"  Because  the  morning  he  went  away  Jane — that's  the 
upper  housemaid,  she's  a  very  superior  young  woman — 
saw  him  come  into  the  breakfast-room,  take  the  photo- 
graph-book, and  look  at  your  likeness  for  a  long  time; 
then  he  tore  it  out  with  such  force  that  it  split  the  paper ; 
and  when  he  turned  and  saw  her  he  gave  her  a  half- 
sovereign  and  shut  the  book,  put  it  in  the  '  whatnot' 
drawer,  and  went  out  without  saying  a  word." 

"  She  had  no  right  to  speak  of  it,"  said  Audrey, 
huskily. 


DOROTHY   FOX  221 

"  I  am  quite  sure  that  she  has  never  breathed  a  word 
to  any  one  but  me,  and  of  course  she  didn't  suppose  1 
was  going  to  tell  you,  Miss  Audrey.  But,  as  I  generally 
do  tell  you  all  that  happens,  I  told  you  this." 

Her  mistress  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two ;  then  she 
said,  "  The  woman  did  not  touch  the  book,  you  say  ?" 

"  No ;  and  she  has  never  touched  it  since." 

"  Then  go  down,  and  while  they  are  at  dinner  see  if 
you  can  find  it  and  bring  it  up  to  me.  Don't  open  it, 
Marshall." 

When  Marshall  returned  with  the  book,  Audrey  took 
it  from  her,  saying,  "  I  shall  not  want  you  again  to-night, 
I  think.  Tell  mamma,  before  she  goes  to  bed,  to  come 
to  me ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  her." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A   RETREAT 

Lady  Laura  was  in  excellent  spirits  when  she  entered 
her  daughter's  room.  She  had  for  the  time  forgot  all  her 
troubles  and  vexation. 

It  was  late ;  for  Mr.  Ford  had  detained  her  by  entering 
confidentially  into  his  plans  for  the  next  year.  She  could 
not  quite  make  out  whether  he  had  proposed  to  Audrey 
or  not ;  but  in  any  case  it  was  now  a  settled  thing,  "  and 
my  only  wonder  is  that  we've  secured  him,"  thought  she, 
"  for  his  fortune  must  be  colossal.  I  am  very  glad  now 
that  Audrey  did  not  have  that  stupid,  heavy  young  Gran- 
ton.  I  never  really  cared  for  him,  though  he  was  thought 
such  a  catch.  This  man  could  buy  and  sell  him  twice  over. 
Dear  Audrey,  I  am  sure  now  she  will  be  happy.  I  must 
tell  her  what  he  said  about  the  diamonds,  and  a  town- 
house.  I  can  see  we  shall  be  allowed  to  manage  matters 
just  as  we  please,  and  that  he  is  a  very  sensible  person, 
and  contented  to  take  his  proper  place.  I  shall  ask  Spen- 
cer to  pay  him  a  little  attention.  If  he's  in  town  before  the 
marriage,  he  might  ask  him  to  luncheon,  and  take  him  to  a 
committee,  or  something  of  that  sort.  Mr.  Ford  would 
think  a  great  deal  of  it ;  people  of  his  class  always  like  to 
talk  about '  what  the  earl  said  to  me ;'  it  naturally  gratifies 
them." 

These  pleasing  anticipations  and  reflections  softened 
Lady  Laura's  voice,  as  approaching  the  sofa  she  said, 
"  Are  you  sleeping,  love? — if  so,  don't  let  me  disturb  you. 

222 


t)OROTHY   FOX  223 

*r  thought  you  had  gone  to  bed,  or  I  should  have  been  up 
before.    How  is  your  head  now  ?" 

"Better." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.  Mr.  Ford  has  been  so  anxious 
about  you ;  he  wanted  to  send  for  the  doctor,  but  I  told 
him  you  frequently  suffered  from  nervous  headaches  and 
begged  he  would  not  do  so.  He  thinks  you  are  very  weak 
and  delicate.  It  is  amusing;  but  when  men  are  in  love, 
there  is  no  saying  what  they  may  think.  Has  he  proposed 
to  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  then,  he  intends  to  do  so  at  once,  for  he  has 
been  talking  to  me  of  his  plans  for  next  year,  and  in- 
quiring about  a  desirable  situation  for  a  town-house, 
which  he  said  must  have  good  reception-rooms;  that 
sounded  well,  I  thought.  He  also  spoke  of  buying  dia- 
monds, which  in  the  future  would  be  considered  family 
jewels,  showing  me  in  every  way  that  money  is  not  of  the 
slightest  consequence  to  him.  So,  my  dear  child,  let  me 
congratulate  you  on  the  brilliant  prospect  before  you. 
You  are  quite  sure  to  become  a  leader  in  society,  and  you 
will  be  one  of  the  happiest  women  in  London.  I  am  long- 
ing to  see  the  envy  and  disappointment  of  all  the  people 
we  know.  Won't  I  snub  those  Dacres  now?  and  I  shall 
not  be  so  very  particular  with  your  aunt  Glanville.  I  do 
not  see  that  they  can  help  us  in  any  way.  Why,  how  pale 
you  are  looking!  I  won't  say  another  word,  but  send 
Marshall  to  you.  I  did  not  know  you  were  suffering  still ; 
and  I  had  so  much  to  say  to  you." 

"  Don't  go,"  said  Audrey,  sitting  up  and  looking  at  her 
mother,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  Mamma,  you  know 
how  I  value  everything  you  have  been  speaking  of,  how 
all  my  life  my  one  idea  of  happiness  has  been  to  have  as 
much  money  as  I  wanted  ?" 


224  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lady  Laura,  with  a  rather  surprised 
look  at  her  daughter's  face. 

"  You  know  how  we  have  tried  and  schemed  that  I 
might  make  a  good  marriage." 

"  My  dear,  don't  say  that  now." 

"  Well,  I  will  leave  you  out ;  but  I  have  always  used 
every  art  I  possessed  to  attract  any  man  I  knew  to  be 
wealthy.  You  know  I  came  here  with  the  one  object  that 
I  would,  if  possible,  marry  Mr.  Ford." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  and  you  will  do  so.  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  shall  not  do  so !" 

Lady  Laura  started  up;  but,  before  she  could  say  a 
word,  Audrey  stopped  her. 

"  Mamma,  don't  waste  your  time  in  reproaches,  only 
help  me — save  me  from  myself.  I  want  to  marry  Mr. 
Ford — I  want  to  have  his  money — but  I  am  possessed 
with  some  madness,  I  think.  I  went  out  this  afternoon, 
intending  that  Mr.  Ford  should  ask  me  to  be  his  wife, 
and  he  would  have  done  so,  but,  at  the  very  moment,  to 
prevent  me  saying  No  to  him,  I  had  to  feign  illness. 
Mamma,  we  must  go  away  from  here ;  all  I  beg  of  you 
is,  not  to  leave  me  alone  with  him ;  when  I  am  away 
perhaps  this  feeling  will  go,  and  reason  will  come  back. 
Invent  something — make  any  pretext  for  taking  me  home, 
only  do  so.  Remember,  I  am  not  a  child — no  wilful  girl 
whose  head  is  turned,  and  who  does  not  know  her  own 
mind.  I  am  a  woman  conscious  of  my  danger,  and  of  the 
only  possible  way  of  escape  from  it.  Oh!  I  am  so 
wretched.  I  cannot  think  or  do  anything.  You  must  help 
me,"  and  Audrey  buried  her  face  in  the  cushions  and 
sobbed  bitterly. 

Poor  Lady  Laura  sat  for  a  few  moments  aghast.  Every 
hope,  every  plan  vanished,  the  future  seemed  suddenly 


DOROTHY   FOX  225 

blotted  out.  Was  the  girl  mad?  Was  this  the  symptom 
of  some  terrible  illness?  She  did  not  know,  she  seemed 
stunned;  she  waited  until  the  sobs  ceased,  and  then  she 
said,  very  quietly, — 

"  Audrey,  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  be  ill  ?" 

"  No." 

"  And  you  know  of  no  reason  why  this  extraordinary 
feeling  should  have  suddenly  come  to  you,  for  I  presume 
it  is  sudden." 

"  Yes,  as  I  told  you,  only  this  afternoon ;  after  talking 
with  you  I  went  to  meet  Mr.  Ford,  intending  to  settle  my 
fate,  and  I — I  found  I  could  not,  and  if  it  were  to  happen 
again  I  know  I  should  refuse  him." 

"  Then  you  have  not  done  so  ?" 

"  No,  and,  mamma,  let  me  yet  have  a  chance ;  don't 
let  him  write,  or  speak;  say  I  am  very  ill,  say  anything, 
only  take  me  away  from  here." 

Lady  Laura's  worldly  wisdom  did  her  good  service 
now,  and  showed  her  that  this  was  no  time  for  reproach 
and  recrimination.  Audrey  would  not  have  asked  her  aid 
unless  she  had  sorely  needed  it;  so  the  present  was  the 
time  for  action.  She  must  tell  Mr.  Ford  that  Audrey  was 
ill,  that  her  anxiety  was  aroused,  that  she  was  dreadfully 
nervous,  and  that  she  must  see  her  own  doctor.  Their 
sudden  flight  must  seem  to  proceed  entirely  from  her 
fears  for  Audrey. 

So  she  said,  "  Go  to  bed  now,  Audrey,  and  I  will  decide 
upon  some  plan  by  to-morrow ;  at  all  events  keep  your 
mind  easy.  We  will  go  to  London  as  soon  as  it  is  pos- 
sible. Now  try  and  get  some  sleep,  or  I  shall  have  you 
really  ill  upon  my  hands.    Good-night,  my  dear." 

And  in  another  moment  Lady  Laura's  arms  were  round 
her  daughter,  who  laid  her  head  against  her  mother's 
breast  as  she  cried,  "  Oh,  mamma,  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

IS 


226  DOROTHY   FOX 

and  then,  nature  being  stronger  than  art,  the  mother  tried 
to  soothe  her  child,  saying  that  things  would  yet  be  well. 

Audrey  did  not  dare  to  confide  all  her  sorrows  to  her 
mother,  but  the  loving  words  and  caresses  did  her  good, 
and  calmed  her  troubled  heart ;  and  the  two  parted  that 
night  more  affectionately  than  perhaps  ever  before. 

When,  however,  her  ladyship  reached  her  own  room 
and  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  the  weary,  old  look  in  her 
face  told  Marshall  that  something  more  than  usual  had 
happened,  and  she  said, — 

"  You  look  dreadfully  tired,  my  lady ;  ain't  you  well  ?'* 

"  Yes,  Marshall,  quite  well,"  answered  Lady  Laura, 
with  a  sigh  ;  "  but  I  think  the  world  is  coming  to  an  end.'* 

"  Oh !  if  that's  all,  I  shouldn't  put  myself  out,  my  lady, 
for  I  heard  Dealtry  and  Burgess  fix  the  day  full  twenty 
years  ago  for  it  to  come  that  day  week,  and  nothing  has 
happened  yet.    The  world  will  last  our  time,  I  daresay." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hardly  care  whether  it  does  or  not,  for  I  am 
weary  of  it  sometimes,  Marshall." 

Marshall  did  not  reply,  neither  did  she  enter  into 
further  conversation ;  but  in  her  own  mind  she  speculated 
on  what  could  have  happened,  until,  after  she  had  bidden 
her  ladyship  good-night,  a  sudden  thought  struck  her, 
and  she  inwardly  exclaimed,  "  Good  gracious  me !  Miss 
Audrey  can  never  have  refused  old  Ford — that's  impos- 
sible. Perhaps  her  ladyship  has  found  out  his  money  isn't 
so  much  as  she  thought.  It's  something  to  do  with  the 
money  market,  which  with  her  means  the  marriage  mar- 
ket. Well !  that's  one  thing  which  reconciles  me  to  get- 
ting my  own  living ;  you're  independent,  and  where  you 
give  your  hand  you  give  your  heart." 

Lady  Laura  certainly  deserved  great  credit  for  the 
manner  in  which  she  effected  her  retreat  from  Dyne 
Court.    When  she  made  her  appearance  the  next  morn- 


DOROTHY   FOX  227 

ing  every  one  noticed  her  anxious,  weary  look,  and  gave 
her  credit  for  the  nervous  fears  she  expressed  for  her 
daughter.  They  begged  her  to  allow  Dr.  Morcambe  to  be 
sent  for,  as  perhaps,  after  all,  a  few  days'  quiet  would  re- 
store Miss  Verschoyle  to  perfect  health. 

"  And  you  may  depend  upon  it,  my  dear  Lady  Laura, 
that  it  is  only  this  change  of  the  season,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
terton ;  "  it  is  not  probable  that  anything  serious  would 
come  on  so  suddenly." 

"  Ah !  but  you  do  not  know  how  delicate  dear  Audrey 
is.  I  know  she  does  not  look  so ;  and  she  has  such  spirit 
and  energy,  that  I  have  known  her  do  the  most  wonderful 
things  while  she  has  been  really  suffering — then  all  at 
once  she  would  break  down.  This  morning,  I  believe,  she 
would  have  tried  to  come  down,  but  I  insisted  upon  her 
remaining  quietly  in  her  room;  and  I  find  now  that  she 
has  been  very  unwell  for  more  than  a  week." 

Here  Mr.  Ford,  who  was  of  course  very  much  con- 
cerned, repeated,  with  certain  reservations,  how  very 
anxious  he  had  been  made  the  day  before  by  one  of  Miss 
Verschoyle's  sudden  attacks  of  indisposition — how  she 
had  begged  him  not  to  alarm  her  mother ;  "  and  it  was 
only  because  she  assured  me  that  by  to-day  she  would 
be  perfectly  recovered  that  I  gave  up  the  idea  of  sending 
for  Dr.  Morcambe.  But  we  must  have  him  at  once ;  and 
I  will  send  Williams  off  with  instructions  to  bring  him 
back." 

"  Mr.  Ford  is  very  kind,"  said  Lady  Laura,  as  soon  as 
their  host  had  departed.  "  But,  you  know,  I  could  not  be 
at  rest  till  Dr.  Kenlis  has  seen  Audrey ;  he  has  always  at- 
tended her,  and  knows  her  constitution,  and  I  have  a 
horror  of  country  practitioners.  I  do  not  know  how  to 
tell  him — he  will  think  me  so  unkind — but  I  must  take 
Audrey  to  London.    I  am  in  such  a  nervous  state  that 


228  DOROTHY   FOX 

I  could  not  remain  here  another  day  on  any  account. 
There  is  Mr.  Ford :  I  shall  go  and  speak  to  him." 

When  Mr.  Ford  heard  from  Lady  Laura  that  she 
thought  she  must  return  with  her  daughter  to  London, 
he  tried  every  means  in  his  power  to  dissuade  her  from 
doing  so.  He  assured  her  of  Dr.  Morcambe's  talent,  and 
of  his  own  conviction  that  a  few  days'  rest  and  nursing 
would  restore  Audrey ;  and  finally  offered,  that  if  things 
should  not  turn  out  quite  as  they  hoped,  they  would  send 
to  town  for  Dr.  Kenlis. 

"  Thanks,  dear  Mr.  Ford,  but  he  wouldn't  come  for  less 
than  a  fortune;  he  had  a  hundred  guineas  for  going  to 
see  my  niece,  Lady  Westfield,  and  their  place  is  not  so  far 
from  London  as  yours." 

"  Well,  my  dear  lady,  if  he  wants  two  hundred  guineas, 
and  can  do  Miss  Verschoyle  any  good,  I  shall  be  only  too 
pleased  to  write  my  name  to  the  cheque.  I  think  I  need 
hardly  tell  you.  Lady  Laura — that  is,  you  must  have  seen 
that  my  very  great  desire  is  to  have  the  pleasure  some 
day — not  a  distant  one,  I  hope — of  having  a  right  to  be  as 
careful  of  your  dear  daughter,  madam,  as  you  are  your- 
self. And  I  am  sure,  until  I  am  so  fortunate,  you  will 
not  object  to  my  gratifying  myself  by  expending  upon  her 
a  trifle  of  that  money  which  soon  I  hope  to  spend  in  pro- 
curing for  her  every  comfort  and  luxury  that  she  may 
desire." 

The  tears  now  stood  in  Lady  Laura's  eyes.  Oh!  to 
think  that  here  was  this  man  making  the  very  offer  she 
had  so  much  longed  for,  and  yet  she  could  not  secure  it. 
What  was  to  be  done?  She  would  not  give  up  hope, 
however;  it  might  be  managed  yet;  so,  after  applying 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  she  answered, — 

"  I  daresay  you  will  think  what  I  am  going  to  say 
very  odd,  dear  Mr.  Ford,  and  perhaps  very  few  mothers 


DOROTHY   FOX  229 

would  be  so  candid;  but  I  cannot  tell  you  how  greatly 
I  have  desired  to  see  dear  Audrey's  happiness  entrusted 
to  your  keeping.  Audrey,  you  know,  is  very  peculiar  in 
many  ways,  and  different  from  girls  in  general.  She 
could  never  endure  men  of  her  own  age,  and  has  often 
said,  when  I  have  remarked  upon  this  peculiarity,  '  No, 
mamma,  the  man  whom  I  marry  I  must  esteem  and  re- 
spect ;  these  qualities  are  of  more  value  to  me  than  love, 
and  will  always  secure  true  affection.'  I  am  sure,  Mr. 
Ford,  you  will  win  her  heart,  but  you  must  promise  me 
one  thing." 

"  What  is  that,  my  dear  lady?" 

"  Not  to  breathe  one  word  of  this  for  the  present.  If 
you  do,  I  shall  be  wretched;  for  Dr.  Kenlis  has  always 
said,  that  the  slightest  excitement  when  Audrey's  nerves 
are  in  this  state  might  produce  the  most  fatal  conse- 
quences. You  know  her  dear  father  suffered  from  heart 
disease.  Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Ford,  I  may  rely  upon  your 
not  speaking  to  her  at  present?  Believe  me,  it  is  only 
deferring  it,  though  I  have  no  right,  perhaps,  to  say  so; 
but  dear  Audrey  and  I  are  more  like  sisters  than  mother 
and  daughter;  our  hearts  are  open  to  each  other.  Now, 
I  have  your  promise?" 

"  If  you  insist  upon  it,  certainly  yes ;  but  I  hardly  see 
the  necessity  myself,  and  she  may  be  quite  well  in  a  few 
days." 

"  True ;  but  after  what  has  occurred,  I  cannot  but  think 
it  would  be  better  for  us  to  return  home  at  once.  One 
never  knows  how  these  things  get  abroad ;  yet,  when 
people  are  together,  they  do ;  and  I  could  not  bear  that  a 
remark  should  be  made  upon  our  remaining.  All  things 
considered,  I  think  it  will  be  best  for  us  to  go  to  town  at 
once.  Audrey's  health  will  be  sufficient  plea.  You  will 
be  coming  up  in  a  few  weeks,  and  then  I  trust  she  will  be 


230  DOROTHY   FOX. 

quite  strong.  Many  of  our  relations  will  be  in  London; 
and  the  engagement  can  be  announced  formally.  In  the 
mean  time,  I  shall  look  upon  it  as  a  settled  thing,  and  on 
you,  my  dear  Mr.  Ford,  as  one  of  the  family.  It  is  very 
strange,  but  in  talking  of  entrusting  my  dear  child  to 
you,  it  does  not  seem  to  be  like  parting  with  her ;  hitherto, 
although  I  should  never  have  tried  to  influence  her  where 
her  affections  were  concerned,  I  have  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  her  marrying.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at?  My 
children  are  all  I  have  left  to  me  in  the  world,  and  the 
securing  of  their  happiness  has  been  the  sole  aim  of  my 
life.  Now  I  shall  consider  dear  Audrey  only  my  trust, 
to  be  guarded  until  I  can  give  her  to  the  man  who  will 
be  the  choice  of  her  mother  as  well  as  of  herself.  That 
is  the  General  coming.  I  feel  unequal  to  conversing  with 
any  indifferent  person;  so,  for  the  present,  adieu.  I  shall 
go  and  prepare  Audrey  gently  for  returning  to  London. 
I  know  it  will  be  a  dreadful  trial  for  her  to  leave  Dyne 
Court,  and  I  shall  be  sorely  tempted  to  comfort  her  by 
saying  it  is  only  for  a  time.  Soon  she  will  be  here  never 
to  leave,  unless  by  her  own  wish ;  but  that  we  must  leave 
now  I  feel  to  be  only  right,  and  acting  for  the  best." 

Mr.  Ford  watched  her  depart,  hat  in  hand ;  then,  with- 
out waiting  for  General  Trefusis,  he  turned  into  a  side 
walk,  saying,  "  I  wonder  if  this  is  her  motive  for  leaving. 
There  seems  to  me  a  little  air  of  mystery  about  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  last  day  or  two;  perhaps  it  is  only  my 
fancy,  these  fashionable  ladies  have  such  wonderful  ways 
with  them.  What  a  humbug  that  woman  is !  Fortunately 
the  daughter  does  not  resemble  her  mother,  or  she  would 
never  be  asked  to  be  my  wife.  You're  sharp,  too,  my 
lady,  and  you've  got  your  wits  about  you ;  you  wouldn't 
make  a  bad  wife  for  a  huckster,  in  spite  of  your  blue 
blood  and  your  long  pedigree." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

OFF   AND   ON 

When  Josiah  Crewdson  got  home  he  received  such  a 
frigid  greeting  from  his  sisters,  that  he  was  afraid  to  say 
anything  about  his  visit  to  London.  But  when  the  sharp 
edge  of  their  displeasure  had  worn  off,  he  said  that  Doro- 
thy Fox  was  coming  to  York  to  stay  with  her  aunt  Abi- 
gail; that  she  had  also  accepted  the  invitation  which  he 
had  given  her  at  their  request  when  in  Devonshire,  and  it 
only  remained  for  them  to  write,  naming  the  time  which 
would  be  most  convenient  for  her  visit. 

The  Miss  Crewdsons  had  been  grimly  satisfied  that 
day  by  hearing  that  the  unruly  son  of  a  somewhat  lax 
cousin  had  disregarded  his  parents'  wishes,  and  utterly 
frustrated  their  hopes.  Kezia  and  Jemima  had  always 
said  that  Samuel  Snow  would  turn  out  badly,  and  had 
remonstrated  with  his  mother  on  the  excessive  fondness 
which  had  made  her  foolishly  blind  to  her  son's  failings. 
Others  had  said  the  boy  would  come  right,  but  Jemima 
and  Kezia  knew  better;  and  now  it  had  turned  out  just 
as  they  had  predicted.  They  were  not  glad  at  the  boy's 
downfall,  but  it  was  pleasant  to  be  so  much  more  shrewd 
and  far-seeing  than  their  neighbours. 

At  dinner  they  were  more  gracious  to  Josiah,  and  this 
change  in  their  manner  at  once  determined  him  to  seize 
the  opportunity,  and  broach  the  subject  nearest  his  heart. 
So,  after  a  little  attempt  at  finesse,  he  said,  "  Grace  Han- 
bury  told  me  she  remembered  you  both." 

"  And  why  should  she  not?"  demanded  Jemima.    "  She 

231 


232  DOROTHY    FOX 

was  one  of  the  most  forward  girls  I  ever  saw.  I  sin- 
cerely hope  Dorothy  does  not  take  after  her." 

"  No,"  replied  Josiah,  vainly  endeavouring  to  keep 
down  the  colour  which  would  fly  to  his  face  whenever 
that  name  was  mentioned.  "  They  are  not  at  all  like  each 
other.  Dorothy  is  like  her  mother.  She  said  she  had  her 
father's  permission  to  spend  a  little  time  with  us  on  her 
way  to  or  from  York:  would  it  not  be  best  to  have  her 
before  she  goes  to  Abigail  Fletcher's?" 

The  sisters  exchanged  glances ;  and  then  Kezia  said, 
"  Did  she  propose  coming  herself,  or  didst  thou  ask  her 
again  ?" 

"  I  invited  her  in  Devonshire ;  and  when  I  saw  her 
again  in  London  I  asked  her  if  she  were  coming.  I 
thought  thou  and  Jemima  would  wish  me  to  do  so." 

"  Thy  sisters  would  wish  thee  to  fear  lying  lips,  Josiah," 
said  Jemima,  sternly,  "  and  to  speak  the  truth  as  thou  hast 
been  brought  up  to  do.  As  we  once  asked  Dorothy  Fox 
here,  we  still  expect  her  to  come;  but  It  would  have 
better  become  thee  to  have  consulted  us  before  thou  didst 
renew  our  invitation." 

"  I  cannot  see  why  you  should  both  be  so  changed  to- 
wards her,"  exclaimed  Josiah,  now  bristling  up  in  de- 
fence of  Dorothy.  "  Before  I  went  to  Devonshire  you 
were  always  speaking  in  praise  of  the  Foxes." 

"  And  now  we  have  nothing  to  say  against  them  or  her ; 
but  it  is  only  fair  to  tell  thee  that  Kezia  and  I  have  ob- 
served a  change  in  thee,  not  for  the  better;  and  we  fear 
that  Dorothy  is  in  some  way  to  blame  for  it.  In  our 
Society  it  is  not  considered  modest  or  becoming  for  young 
men  and  women  to  be  talking  of  loving  each  other;  a 
higher  principle  than  mere  human  affection  should  be  the 
motive  for  a  consistent  marriage." 

Josiah  was  silent.    It  was  impossible  for  him  to  argue 


DOROTHY    FOX  233 

with  his  sisters,  or  to  defend  his  love,  about  which  he 
often  had  sore  pricks  of  conscience,  not  knowing  if  he 
were  right  in  cherishing  the  passion  which  was  daily 
growing  stronger  within  him. 

Jemima's  face  relaxed ;  she  saw  she  had  touched  the 
boy,  as  she  always  called  him.  So  she  seated  herself  more 
firmly  on  her  chair  in  order  to  carry  on  the  good  work 
and  improve  the  opportunity.  For  the  next  hour  Josiah 
listened  patiently,  and  with  apparent  attention,  to  a  joba- 
tion, in  the  form  of  a  duet;  for  when  Jemima  stopped, 
Kezia  took  up  the  discourse.  Each  sister  performed  her 
part  with  such  satisfaction  to  herself  that,  when  they  had 
finished,  Jemima  extended  her  hard  bony  hand  to  Josiah, 
telling  him  to  be  thankful  that  he  had  those  about  him 
who  would  never  see  him  go  astray  without  speaking 
words  of  reproof,  prompted  only  by  anxiety  for  his  wel- 
fare. Kezia  afterwards  wrote  to  Dorothy  that  they  would 
be  glad  to  see  her,  if  convenient,  on  her  way  to  York. 

When  the  letter  reached  Dorothy,  it  suddenly  recalled 
her  to  a  sense  of  what  was  expected  of  her:  that  she 
should  not  unasked  give  her  love  to  any  man;  and  that 
if  she  were  asked,  she  should  firmly  deny  it  to  one  op- 
posed in  every  way  to  those  principles  which  she  held 
dear. 

Of  late,  Charles  Verschoyle  had  come  frequently  to 
Fryston,  and  though,  when  Grace  and  John  were  present, 
he  only  paid  Dorothy  the  attention  demanded  by  courtesy, 
when  they  were  alone,  by  many  an  expressive  look  and 
word  he  showed  her  who  it  was  that  drew  him  constantly 
there,  and  why  he  was  never  contented  to  be  absent.  Per- 
haps, had  Dorothy  been  more  honest  with  herself,  she 
might  have  effectually  battled  with  the  temptation.  But 
the  idea  of  her  caring  for  a  man  who  was  not  a  Friend, 
and  worse  still,  who  was  a  soldier,  was  so  repugnant  to 


234  DOROTHY    FOX 

her  that  she  would  not  face  the  difficulty.  She  was  con- 
fident in  her  strength,  and  certain  that  nothing  could  make 
her  disobey  her  father,  or  forget  her  principles.  And, 
though  her  heart  was  heavy  at  the  thought  of  leaving 
Fryston,  she  persuaded  herself  it  was  so  because  of  her 
fondness  for  Grace  and  the  children. 

So  without  allowing  herself  time  for  reflection  she 
wrote  accepting  Kezia  Crewdson's  invitation,  and  replied 
to  a  letter  from  Josiah,  telling  him  she  was  sorry  not  to 
have  seen  him  again,  but  that  when  she  came  to  Heading- 
ley  she  hoped  they  would  be  a  great  deal  together.  Then 
she  ran  down-stairs  and  asked  Mr.  Hanbury  to  post  the 
letters,  returning  to  her  room  to  weep  the  most  bitter 
tears  she  had  ever  shed  in  her  life. 

Captain  Verschoyle  could  not  understand  what  was 
wrong  with  Dorothy.  That  evening  he  dined  at  the 
Grange,  and  had  a  tete-a-tcte  with  her  while  Grace  went 
for  John,  but  though  he  repeated  all  the  sweet  sayings 
which  usually  made  her  lovely  eyes  look  shyly  into  his, 
Dorothy  continued  in  her  most  staid  manner,  until  he  was 
tempted  to  say  more  than  was  prudent  in  his  eagerness 
to  get  one  of  the  glances  which  now  seemed  to  him  the 
most  desirable  thing  in  the  whole  world.  Of  course  he 
could  not  marry  Dorothy — that  was  out  of  the  question. 
In  the  first  place,  she  was  a  Quaker,  and  Quakers  always 
marry  Quakers;  here  he  winced  a  little,  as  if  his  first 
argument  was  not  particularly  pleasant  to  him ;  secondly, 
he  could  not  afford  to  marry  without  money ;  and,  thirdly, 
her  father  kept  a  shop.  The  whole  affair  was  absurd: 
nobody  would  expect  him  to  do  such  a  thing.  His  mind 
then  reverted  to  her  prim  manner,  and  he  wondered  what 
could  be  the  matter  with  the  child,  she  had  been  so  dif- 
ferent of  late.  Perhaps  some  one  had  been  speaking  to 
her  about  him.    "  More  than  likely,"  he  said :   ''  what  an 


DOROTHY   FOX  235 

extraordinary  thing  it  is  that  some  people  can't  let  others 
alone;  they  must  suggest,  or  warn,  or  interfere!  I  call 
it  unwarrantable  impertinence ;"  and  Captain  Verschoyle 
continued  to  abuse  these  imaginary  persons,  until  he  re- 
solved to  frustrate  their  designs  by  going  down  the  next 
day  to  Fryston,  and  driving  it  all  out  of  the  pretty  crea- 
ture's head. 

And  when  he  went,  the  pretty  creature  had  suffered  so 
much  from  the  fear  that  she  had  offended  him,  and  that 
he  would  not  come  again,  that  she  threw  prudence  to  the 
winds,  looked  more  bewitchingly  at  him  than  ever,  and 
resolutely  salved  her  conscience  by  saying  to  herself,  that 
while  she  was  here  it  was  of  no  use,  but  when  she  went 
to  Headingley  she  would  really  try  to  like  Josiah  Crewd- 
son. 

All  in  vain,  therefore,  did  Mrs.  Hanbury  ask  eligible 
Friends  to  luncheon  or  dinner.  Dorothy  made  herself 
very  agreeable  during  their  stay,  but  was  quite  indif- 
ferent whether  they  ever  came  again  or  not. 

At  last,  in  her  disappointment,  Grace  confided  to  John 
that  she  believed  in  her  heart  that  Dolly  really  cared  for 
that  gawky-looking  Josiah  Crewdson. 

"  Oh,  I  daresay,"  replied  her  husband,  stolidly. 

"  Thou  daresay !"  repeated  Grace ;  "  why,  John,  thou 
hast  never  seen  him ;  thou  dost  not  know  what  he  is 
like." 

"  Thou  hast  given  me  a  very  full  description  of  his 
peculiarities,"  laughed  John,  "  ending  with  the  invariably 
expressed  opinion  of  his  worth  and  goodness  which  usu- 
ally finishes  the  portraiture  of  a  plain  and  awkward  per- 
son." 

"  I  really  do  not  think  that  I  have  dealt  hardly  with 
him,"  said  Grace,  with  a  rather  rueful  face,  "  and  I  believe 
in  his  kind  disposition;    but  it  does  seem  a  sacrifice  to 


236  DOROTHY    FOX 

marry  Dolly  to  him,  and  bury  her  in  that  dull  house  at 
Headingley." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  but  if  it  be  her  pleasure,  why  annoy 
thyself?    She  is  not  compelled  to  marry  Crewdson." 

"  But  her  father  wishes  it  so  much :  he  has  set  his 
heart  upon  the  match." 

"  Ah !  a  great  many  fathers  and  mothers  set  their 
hearts  on  matches  that  never  come  off,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  but  Dorothy  is  different  from  most  girls,  John ; 
she  would  never  marry  any  one  of  whom  father  did  not 
approve." 

"  Hum !"  said  John,  screwing  his  mouth  in  a  comical 
way,  "If  Fate  had  decreed  that  I  should  be  the  man 
upon  whom  your  sister  had  set  her  affection,  I  should 
not  fear  the  disapprobation  of  fifty  fathers.  Where  that 
young  lady  bestows  her  love,  she  will  not  keep  much 
back  for  anybody  else;  and  she's  too  much  her  father's 
daughter  to  give  up  easily  what  she  has  set  her  heart 
upon." 

"  Josiah  Crewdson  is  wealthy,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Grace. 

"  Yes,  he  is  said  to  be  a  rich  man.  His  father  left  him 
a  considerable  amount  of  property,  besides  the  business, 
which  I  hear  is  rapidly  increasing.  Josiah  Crewdson  is 
considered  a  very  shrewd,  safe  fellow." 

"  However,  that  need  not  influence  Dorothy,"  answered 
Grace,  "  for  she  is  sure  to  have  a  good  fortune.  Besides 
her  mother's  money,  all  Aunt  Abigail's  is  certain  to  come 
to  her." 

"  Rich,  young,  and  beautiful !  What  more  can  man 
desire?" 

"  Why,  that  she  should  desire  him ;  and  I  have  seen  no 
sign  of  that  yet." 

"  Well,"  said  John,  laughing,  "  do  you  know  that  it  has 
struck  me  that  there  has  been  a  considerable  amount  of 


DOROTHY   FOX  237 

philandering  lately,  under  our  very  sharp  noses,  without 
our  taking  much  account  of  it." 

"  What  dost  thou  mean  ?"  asked  Grace,  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise. 

"  I  mean,  my  dear,  that,  notwithstanding  my  firm  be- 
lief that  we  are  two  of  the  most  interesting  and  attractive 
people  to  be  met  with  in  the  United  Kingdom,  yet  when 
Dorothy  leaves  us,  we  shall  not  be  just  so  frequently 
favoured  with  visits  from  our  friend  Captain  Verschoyle." 

"  Nonsense.  What  is  there  to  make  thee  imagine  such 
a  thing?" 

"  Well,  for  one  thing — whenever  we  are  out  walking 
they  always  manage  to  fall  behind." 

"  That  is  only  because  we  are  talking  together,  and 
they  wish  to  keep  at  a  little  distance  from  us." 

"  Yes ;  but  there  is  a  limit  to  most  people's  distance. 
But,  unless  it's  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  I  have  not  dis- 
covered the  limit  to  theirs.  Then,  when  we  are  in  the 
house,  they  are  in  the  garden ;  and  if  we  are  in  the  gar- 
den, the  objects  of  interest  to  them  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion are  really  surprising.  Why,  Grace,  it  is  not  so  long 
since  our  own  love-making  days  that  thou  shouldst  forget 
all  its  cunning  devices." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  one  of  them,"  she  said,  looking 
at  him  tenderly ;  "  but  I  cannot  believe  that  what  thou 
art  thinking  of  is  true.  However,  I  shall  now  take  care 
to  watch  them  narrowly." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  her  husband,  preparing  to  leave ; 
"  for  I  have  a  suspicion  that  Grace,  as  well  as  Love,  is 
sometimes  blind." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 
"all  that  is  right" 

It  was  the  last  week  of  October,  and  the  last  week  of 
Dorothy's  visit  to  Fryston.  On  the  following  Thursday 
she  was  to  leave  for  Headingley.  Captain  Verschoyle 
still  remained  in  London.  At  first  he  said  business  de- 
tained him,  but  the  business  was  no  more  than  the  or- 
dering of  a  shooting-suit.  Then  he  overstayed  Colonel 
Stapleton's  invitation,  and  after  disappointing  Stapleton 
he  couldn't  go  anywhere  else ;  so  he  decided  to  stay  now 
until  Harry  Egerton  returned  to  Darington. 

Mr.  Egerton  had  been  at  Darington  a  week;  still  his 
godson  lingered  in  town,  until  a  letter  from  Audrey  an- 
nounced Lady  Laura's  intention  of  returning  home,  to 
which  was  added,  as  a  bit  of  sisterly  advice,  that  un- 
less he  was  equal  to  squalls  he  had  better  disappear  at 
once. 

"  That  decides  me,"  thought  Captain  Verschoyle  after 
reading  the  letter.  "  I  must  not  encounter  her  ladyship 
at  present ;  so  I  shall  run  down  to  the  Hanburys  and  tell 
them  I  have  been  called  away  suddenly.  I  wonder  how 
Dorothy  will  take  it.  Of  course  we  both  knew  the  time 
must  come  for  saying  '  Adieu,  my  love,  for  evermore 
adieu;'  but  it's  none  the  more  pleasant  for  that.  If  I 
saw  much  more  of  her  I  verily  believe  I  should  make  an 
ass  of  myself;  as  it  is,  we  are  neither  of  us  at  all  com- 
promised. I  believe  the  child  loves  me,  and  I  never  felt 
it  so  hard  to  give  up  any  girl  before.  Ah,  I  was  always 
an  unfortunate  beggar.  I  never  met  a  girl  yet  that  I 
238 


DOROTHY   FOX  239 

liked  but  she  was  sure  either  not  to  have  a  penny  or 
to  belong  to  a  family  beyond  the  pale  of  the  magic 
circle," 

Here  Captain  Verschoyle  looked  at  his  watch,  and  re- 
solved to  catch  the  early  train,  Mrs.  Hanbury  having 
announced  to  him  her  intention  of  not  returning  from 
London  until  five  o'clock. 

Of  course  he  could  not  see  the  sweet  picture  that  Dor- 
othy made  as  she  stood  half-way  up  the  hedge-bank, 
holding  back  the  nut-branches  in  a  strained,  eager,  lis- 
tening attitude,  trying  to  make  sure  that  she  heard  the 
coming  train  in  the  distance,  while  with  every  rapid  beat 
her  heart  seemed  to  cry  aloud,  "  Will  he  come  ?  Will  he 
come  ?" 

Captain  Verschoyle  got  out  of  the  train  and  walked  to 
the  house.  He  hoped  that  he  would  find  Dorothy  alone, 
for  then  he  knew  he  should  see  the  soft  colour  leap  into 
her  cheeks,  and  die  away  so  slowly ;  he  knew  that  he 
should  feel  her  little  hand  tremble  in  his  like  a  frightened 
bird ;  and  he  knew  that  the  shy  eyes  would  meet  his  and 
be  dropped  again  before  he  had  taken  in  half  of  their 
beauty,  making  him  determine  to  have  them  lifted  again 
and  again.  And  yet  he  could  say  they  both  "  meant 
nothing,"  and  that  they  were  not  in  the  least  committed 
to  one  another. 

Dorothy  remained  in  her  elevated  position  until  she 
saw  the  smoke  of  the  train  puffing  on  and  away.  Then 
she  scrambled  down  and  tried  to  stay  patiently,  beguiling 
the  tedious  waiting  by  many  a  youthful  device.  At 
length  she  felt  so  certain  that  more  than  the  given  time 
had  elapsed  that  she  determined  to  run  in  and  look  at  the 
hall  clock.  Turning  quickly  out  from  the  nut-walk,  she 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  Captain  Verschoyle,  who 
took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  bending  towards  her, 


240  DOROTHY    FOX 

said,  "  Were  you  running  to  meet  me  ?  I  shall  keep  you 
prisoner  until  you  tell  me." 

"  Yes — no — that  is,  I  was  going  to  see  if  thou  hadst 
come." 

"  Then  you  expected  me  ?" 

"  No,  I  did  not  quite." 

"  Not  expect  me,  and  yet  tell  me  you  were  going 
to  see  if  I  had  come!"  he  said,  in  a  disappointed 
tone. 

"  I  did  not  expect  thee,  but  I  hoped  that  thou  wouldst 
come." 

Oh,  the  coy  sweet  eyes  that  met  his,  how  lovely  they 
were!  He  could  have  taken  her  in  his  arms  that  very 
moment. 

They  walked  back  through  the  nut-walk,  he  express- 
ing much  surprise  at  hearing  that  Mrs.  Hanbury  was  in 
London. 

"  Grace  thought  she  had  told  thee,"  exclaimed  Doro- 
thy ;  "  she  said  it  was  just  possible  thou  mightst  come 
down  by  this  train,  and  if  so,  I " 

"Well?" 

"  Was  to  amuse  thee  until  she  came." 

"  What  a  shameful  task  to  impose  upon  your  young 
shoulders !"  said  Captain  Verschoyle.  "  You  will  require 
to  exert  yourself  to  your  utmost." 

"  Indeed,  no,"  she  replied,  laughing,  "  for  it  is  thou 
who  wilt  amuse  me.  I  like  to  listen  when  thou  art  talk- 
mg. 

"  Dorothy — I  may  call  you  Dorothy,  may  I  not  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !"  and  her  quick  colour  told  how  sweet  the 
name  sounded. 

"  Of  course,"  he  continued,  "  all  your  friends  call  you 
Dorothy.  Then,  Dorothy,  when  we  are  parted  will  you 
think  of  me  sometimes?" 


DOROTHY   FOX  241. 

**  Parted  \"  Ah,  she  remembered ;  in  a  week  she  would 
be  away  from  Fryston.  She  was  looking  very  grave 
now.    "  Think  of  thee  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  with  affected  impatience,  "  is  it  im- 
possible for  you  to  do  so?  Will  you  forget  me  at  once 
for  some  other  who  will  amuse  you  ?    Oh,  Dorothy !" 

"  Thou  knowest  well  I  do  not  mean  that,"  she  said, 
looking  straight  at  him.  "  I  could  not  forget  thee,"  she 
added,  while  her  voice  came  with  a  tremor  which  she  en- 
deavoured to  suppress  by  saying,  "  but  I  am  not  going 
for  a  week  yet." 

"  But  I  am." 

"Thou!" 

"  Yes,  I  must  go  to  see  my  godfather." 

His  heart  reproached  him  when  he  saw  how  pale  she 
become.  Poor  darling,  she  too  would  feel  the  parting. 
In  spite  of  his  pity,  however,  an  exultant  feeling  of  joy 
came  over  him.  But  his  voice  was  most  desponding  as 
he  said,  "  You  will  have  gone  before  I  return  from 
York." 

York!  that  was  where  Aunt  Abigail  lived;  suppose 
it  should  be  near,  and  they  were  to  meet  again. 

"  My  Aunt  Abigail  lives  near  York,"  she  said ;  "  I 
am  going  to  see  her  before  I  return  home." 

Captain  Verschoyle's  heart  gave  a  leap,  and  his  blood 
tingled  in  his  veins  as  he  exclaimed, — 

"  My  dear  child,  is  it  possible  that  you  are  going  to 
York?  How  delightful!  We  shall  be  there  together, 
perhaps." 

"  I — I  was  thinking  of  asking  to  be  allowed  to  go 
home  instead;  I  have  been  away  from  my  mother  so 
long  that  I  do  not  care  about  visiting  any  more." 

"  But  not  now ;  you  will  go  to  York  now  ?"  he  said, 
eagerly.    Then,  bending  close  to  her,  he  repeated,  "  You 

16 


242  DOROTHY   FOX 

will  go  now ;  I  am  sure  you  would  say  yes  if  you  could 
understand  how  happy  it  would  make  me." 

Dorothy  did  not  answer ;  her  colour  changed,  her  eye- 
lids quivered,  and  her  mouth  tightened  one  moment  to 
relax  the  next,  and  gradually  opened  like  a  fresh  rose- 
bud. 

Several  times  during  their  interview  Charles  Ver- 
schoyle's  conscience  had  asserted  itself,  giving  him 
sharp  pricks  and  asking  if  he  were  acting  up  even  to 
his  own  code  of  honour;  but  he  would  not  listen  now. 
What  cared  he  at  that  moment  for  anything  but  the  cer- 
tainty that  the  girl  loved  him  with  all  the  warmth  of  her 
heart?  He  had  laid  his  love  at  the  feet  of  fair  ones  be- 
fore ;  had  vowed  and  sighed,  and  had  been  met  on  equal 
ground.  He  had  been  courted,  flattered,  caressed,  but 
never  loved  by  a  girl  who  artlessly  betrayed  what  she 
strove  to  conceal.  When  she  looked  at  him  she  did  so 
because  she  was  drawn  to  him  irresistibly;  when  she 
blushed,  it  was  the  shy  blush  of  girlish  innocence,  with 
no  thought  of  the  effect  produced.  Such  a  woman  was  a 
novelty  to  a  man  like  Charles  Verschoyle.  He  enjoyed 
Dorothy's  telltale  face  and  the  sweet  secret  it  betrayed 
without  a  thought  of  anything  beyond  the  present  mo- 
ment. Time  enough  for  reflection  when  they  were  apart 
from  each  other. 

"  Dorothy,"  he  almost  whispered,  *'  will  you  not  say 
that  you  will  go  now  ?" 

No  answer. 

"  Ah,  it  is  nothing  to  you  that  we  are  parted,"  he  said, 
turning  from  her  with  a  discontented  sigh.  "  You  want 
to  be  back  in  Devonshire  with  your  mother,  and  you  do 
not  care  if  I  suffer." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  he  felt  a  little  hand  laid 
upon  his  arm,  and  Dorothy's  sweet  eyes  looked  beseech- 


DOROTHY   FOX  243 

ingly  into  his,  as  she  said,  timidly,  "  Say,  would  it  really 
make  thee  more  happy  if  I  went?" 

Who  could  resist  it?  The  temptation  was  too  strong 
for  Charles  Verschoyle,  so  he  framed  the  sweet  face  in 
his  hands,  and  said,  "  Dorothy,  do  you  love  me  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  glad  eyes;  "Yes,"  said  the  soft 
mouth ;  and  "  Yes"  seemed  to  be  echoed  by  the  throb- 
bing of  her  heart. 

"With  all  your  heart?" 

"  Yes."    And  the  eyes  looked  straight  into  his. 

"  Better  than  all  the  world?" 

"  Yes." 

And  the  autumn  winds  sighed  softly,  and  rustled 
among  the  leaves  overhead,  but  Dorothy  heeded  not; 
and  the  roses  shed  their  leaves  despairingly  at  her  feet, 
but  she  saw  them  not.  For  love  held  back  the  sands  of 
Time,  and  flooded  all  around  with  his  golden  light. 

"  My  darling,  I  hear  some  one  coming." 

"  Coming — here  ?"  she  said,  in  a  terrified  voice.  "  What 
shall  I  do?" 

"  Turn  down  the  path  and  go  into  the  house  by  the 
other  way,  and  I  will  meet  them  and  say  all  that  is 
right." 

She  did  not  wait  for  another  word,  and  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle sauntered  along  the  nut-walk  until  the  footsteps 
came  near  and  Mrs.  Hanbury  exclaimed, — 

"What,  by  yourself?  Where  is  that  naughty  sister 
of  mine?  I  expected  to  find  her  politely  entertaining 
you." 

"  So  she  has  been ;  but  her  anxiety  to  ascertain  if  you 
had  arrived  overcame  her  politeness,  and  she  ran  into 
the  house  a  few  minutes  since." 

"And  now,  how  are  you?"  said  Grace.  "1  am  so 
glad  you  decided  to  come,  for  John  is  bringing  a  friend 


244  DOROTHY   FOX 

to  dinner.  I  have  never  seen  him,  but  he  says  we  shall 
all  like  him.  You  came  down  by  the  three  o'clock  train, 
I  suppose?" 

"  Yes.  I  looked  for  you  at  the  station,  but  did  not  see 
you.  Had  I  been  quite  sure  you  were  coming  by  this 
train,  of  course  I  would  have  waited  for  you." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Grace  thought  something  was 
wrong  with  her  friend;  for  do  what  he  would,  Captain 
Verschoyle  was  not  at  ease,  and  could  not  provide  small 
talk  as  usual. 

Grace  observed  this  restraint,  as  well  as  the  nervous 
way  in  which  he  twisted  one  end  of  his  moustache. 
So  she  told  him  where  she  had  been,  what  pur- 
chases she  had  made,  and  smiled  internally  to  think  of 
poor  Dolly's  state  of  mind  when  sustaining  the  con- 
versation by  herself.  She  did  not  wonder  now  at  her 
running  in  to  see  if  the  train  had  brought  her  to  the 
rescue. 

When  they  got  indoors  Dorothy  was  not  to  be  seen. 
Mrs.  Hanbury  announced  her  intention  of  going  at  once 
to  look  for  her,  but  Captain  Verschoyle  asked  her  a  ques- 
tion which,  he  said,  had  been  puzzling  him  about  one  of 
Leslie's  pictures. 

This  entailed  another  half-hour's  conversation,  and 
then  the  children  came  in ;  and  it  was  dusk  before  Doro- 
thy made  her  appearance,  stammering  out  something 
about  thinking  they  were  in  the  garden. 

"  Bless  the  child,"  laughed  Grace.  "  We  have  not  taken 
leave  of  our  senses  yet.  We  came  indoors  nearly  an 
hour  ago.  I  only  went  out  to  look  for  you,  and  we  re- 
turned at  once.  Now  it  is  time  we  did  a  little  adorn- 
ment, for  John  is  bringing  a  friend  with  him."  Turning 
to  Captain  Verschoyle,  she  added,  "  He  is  a  gentleman 
with  whom  John  is  very  much  pleased  for  the  manner 


DOROTHY   FOX  245 

in  which  he  conducted  a  troublesome  lawsuit  in  which 
the  firm  was  lately  engaged.  He  has  a  somewhat  roman- 
tic history  too." 

"  Indeed !"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  in  such  a  tone 
that  Mrs.  Hanbury  knew  that  she  might  as  well  reserve 
her  story,  for  to-night  it  would  fall  on  very  dull  ears. 
So  she  arose,  saying, — 

"  But  while  I  am  talking  I  am  forgetting  how  the  time 
is  going.  Come,  Dolly,  we  must  go  and  dress."  And 
the  sisters  left  the  room. 

Captain  Verschoyle  stretched  himself,  and  gazed  into 
the  fire  for  fully  twenty  minutes.  Whether  his  thoughts 
were  happy  or  not  his  face  did  not  indicate;  only  at  the 
end  of  that  time  he  started  up  and  said, — 

"  Well,  I  cannot  help  it  now ;  and  if  it  were  all  to 
come  over  again,  I  would  act  in  exactly  the  same  way. 
But  what's  to  be  the  end  of  it,  or  what  I  mean,  I  really 
cannot  tell." 

He  then  rang  the  bell,  and  desired  Cannon  to  show 
him  his  room,  determining  not  to  worry  himself  more 
that  night  with  such  reflections. 

Notwithstanding,  it  was  not  the  amount  of  care  he 
bestowed  upon  his  personal  appearance  that  detained 
him  at  his  toilette  so  long  that  when  he  appeared  in  the 
drawing-room  all  were  assembled. 

John  Hanbury  was  showing  his  wife  a  new  photo- 
graph. By  Dorothy's  side  sat  Geoffrey  Dynecourt.  The 
blood  rushed  into  his  face  as  Captain  Verschoyle  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Why,  Dynecourt,  when  did  you  come  back  ?  I 
thought  you  were  out  in  the  country." 

"  I  might  echo  your  words,  for  you  were  expected  the 
same  day  that  I  left  Mr.  Ford's." 

"Ah,  but,  you  see,  I  never  turned  up;"   and  Captain 


246  DOROTHY   FOX 

Verschoyle  laughed,  for  Lady  Laura  had  been  very  care- 
ful not  to  inform  her  son  of  his  rival's  flitting. 

"  Ah,  you  are  friends  already,"  said  Grace ;  "  that  is 
delightful." 

"  Yes,  we  were  staying  together  in  a  country-house 
the  other  day,  and  a  very  jolly  time  we  had.  You  stayed 
a  week  beyond  me,  Dynecourt.  What  did  you  all  do? 
Poor  old  Ford  got  ill,  did  he  not?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  soon  recovered." 

It  cost  Mr.  Dynecourt  an  effort  to  appear  at  ease,  and 
to  speak  in  his  usual  tone  of  voice.  He  longed  to  ask 
Captain  Verschoyle  if  his  mother  and  sister  were  in  Lon- 
don, but  to  mention  Audrey  in  an  indifferent  voice,  and 
with  a  careless  manner,  was  simply  impossible. 

"  By  the  way,  did  that  second  picnic  come  off  ?" 

"  The  second  picnic  ?    Oh,  yes." 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  if  he  was 
sweet  upon  Miss  Bingham ;  it  looks  like  it ;  he  seems  to 
shirk  talking  about  the  party." 

Just  then  dinner  was  announced,  and  the  conversa- 
tion passed  to  other  subjects,  until  Captain  Verschoyle 
said,  "  My  mother  is  coming  to  London  in  a  day  or  two 
with  my  sister,  who  has  been  ill  and  laid  up  at  Dyne 
Court  for  more  than  a  week." 

There  was  an  awkward  pause,  and  then  Mr.  Dynecourt 
replied,  "  Indeed !  has  she  ?" 

Grace,  with  a  woman's  tact,  saw  that  all  was  not  plain 
sailing,  so  she  contrived  to  direct  the  conversation  into 
another  channel. 

Captain  Verschoyle  was  too  much  occupied  with  his 
own  affairs  to  be  much  impressed  by  any  one's  manner; 
he  only  wondered  for  a  moment  if  his  mother  had  been 
talking  too  much  about  Miss  Bingham  and  him,  and  so 
had  offended  Dynecourt. 


DOROTHY   FOX  247. 

Grace,  in  her  own  mind,  came  nearer  the  mark.  Doro- 
thy, who  had  hardly  spoken  during  dinner,  asked  Mr. 
Dynecourt,  when  Grace  and  the  Captain  were  at  the 
piano,  if  he  did  not  think  Audrey  Verschoyle  very  lovely. 

"  Do  you  know  her?"  he  asked. 

"  I  met  her  once  in  Devonshire,  and  I  shall  never  for- 
get her." 

Mr.  Dynecourt  recalled  the  evening  that  he  and  Au- 
drey had  spent  in  Mr.  Ford's  room,  and  the  description 
which  she  had  given  of  the  lovely  young  Quaker  and  her 
mother.  Surely  this  was  the  girl  Audrey  had  longed  to 
be  like.  Oh,  if  she  had  been  like  her,  how  different  this 
life  might  have  been !  He  knew  now  that,  in  spite  of  the 
bitterness  of  his  words  at  parting,  and  the  determination 
he  formed  then  to  forget  her  and  to  learn  to  hate  her,  it 
was  impossible.  She  would  occupy  a  higher  place  in  his 
heart  than  any  woman  he  would  ever  meet  again.  Often, 
when  he  sat  in  his  chambers,  wear^  and  worn  by  his  hard 
work,  he  would  recall  the  injustice  she  had  done  him; 
and  then,  after  enumerating  her  faults,  her  worldliness, 
her  coldness  of  heart — dwelling  on  every  soft  seduction 
as  a  trick — he  would  almost  grind  his  teeth,  as  he  ex- 
claimed, "  And,  knowing  all  this,  I  can  love  her  still ! 
Fool  that  I  am !" 

A  thousand  wild  thoughts  filled  his  mind  when  he  heard 
that  Audrey  had  been  ill;  he  was  glad,  sorry.  Could 
she  have  been  thinking  about  him  ?  Had  she  refused  Mr. 
Ford  ?  This  gentle  girl  evidently  knew  nothing  of  her — 
would,  perhaps,  never  see  her  again ;  so  he  might  indulge 
in  speaking  of  Audrey,  and  hear  her  spoken  of,  where 
there  was  no  chance  of  his  secret  being  discovered. 

So  Dorothy  tried  to  arouse  herself  from  her  own  dream, 
to  talk  to  her  grave-looking  companion.  She  did  not 
tell  him  what  had  brought  Audrey  and  Charles  Ver- 


348  DOROTHY   FOX 

schoyle  to  King's-heart.  She  only  described  their  visit, 
and  praised  Audrey  so  much  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  was 
delighted  with  her.  He  sat  listening  so  earnestly  that 
Captain  Verschoyle  was  quite  annoyed.  Further  on  in 
the  evening,  when  Dorothy  went  to  bring  something  for 
her  sister,  and  Geoffrey  turned  to  Mrs.  Hanbury,  say- 
ing, "  How  lovely  your  sister  is !  I  have  not  been  so 
charmed  with  any  one  for  a  long  time,"  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle thought,  "  What  can  the  fellow  mean  ?" 


CHAPTER   XXV 

IN   DOUBT  AND  GRIEF   AND   HOPE 

Though  Grace  Hanbury  told  her  husband  that  she  still 
believed  his  suspicions  concerning  Dorothy  and  Captain 
Verschoyle  to  be  entirely  unfounded,  she  considered  it 
prudent  to  err  on  the  safe  side ;  by  which  she  meant  that 
the  two  should  now  have  as  few  opportunities  of  meeting 
each  other  as  possible. 

"  Dorothy  will  leave  us  in  a  few  days,"  she  said,  "  and 
Captain  Verschoyle  told  me  he  was  soon  going  out  of 
town  to  visit  his  godfather.  So,  John,  dost  thou  not  think 
it  is  as  well  to  try  and  keep  them  apart?" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  her  husband,  laughing ;  "  al- 
though I  am  forcibly  reminded  of  the  Chester  saying, 
*  When  the  daughter's  stolen,  lock  the  Pepper  gate.' " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Grace,  a  little  vexed.  "  If  Dorothy 
is  struck  by  him,  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  no  serious  wound ; 
and  as  for  him,  I  believe  it  is  his  nature  to  pay  attention 
to  any  woman  he  happens  to  be  near.  You  may  depend 
upon  it  he  has  no  intention  but  that  of  making  himself 
agreeable." 

"  He  is  very  well  connected,"  said  Mr.  Hanbury ;  "  it 
comes  out  every  now  and  then.  His  uncle  is  Lord  Ton- 
mouth,  and  his  mother  is  a  lady  of  title." 

"  Just  so ;  and  that  makes  the  notion  of  any  engage- 
ment between  them  absurd.  I  hope  I  have  not  been  care- 
less. I  don't  really  think  I  have;  only  I  have  taken 
fright  now." 

"Don't  do  that,  dear,"  said  John,  kindly.     "There 

249 


250  DOROTHY   FOX 

may  be  nothing  in  it,  but  next  time  he  writes  say  thou 
hast  an  engagement,  and  fix  a  clay  when  Dolly  will  have 
left  us." 

In  accordance  with  this  decision,  when  the  next  day  a 
letter  came  from  Captain  Verschoyle  saying  that  he  hoped 
to  see  them  on  Tuesday,  Mrs.  Hanbury  wrote  to  inform 
him  that  they  were  all  going  to  spend  that  day  with 
John's  mother  at  Hampstead.  But  she  asked  him  to 
come  on  the  following  Saturday  instead. 

Captain  Verschoyle  in  his  heart  felt  relieved  at  not 
having  just  then  to  face  Mrs.  Hanbury,  but  he  wrote  in 
reply  that  he  was  compelled  to  leave  London  immedi- 
ately, and  hoped  to  see  them  on  his  return.  He  requested 
her  to  convey  to  her  sister  his  adieux,  and  expressed 
regret  at  being  unable  to  make  them  in  person.  He 
thought  this  was  really  cleverly  managed.  Dorothy 
would,  of  course,  understand  the  plan,  though  she  would 
not  perhaps  see  the  motive  which  prompted  it.  Here, 
however,  he  was  mistaken. 

Mrs.  Hanbury  had  more  tact  than  most  women,  but 
she  would  never  have  made  a  diplomatist.  At  the  very 
time  when  there  was  need  for  concealment,  stratagem, 
or  finesse,  Grace  turned  out  a  decided  bungler,  showing 
by  her  awkward  manner  how  foreign  chicanery  was  to 
her  frank  and  open  nature.  Captain  Verschoyle's  first 
letter  having  been  kept  secret  from  Dorothy,  the  arrival 
of  the  second,  with  its  message,  rather  put  her  out.  She 
felt  Dorothy  would  suspect  something  because  of  the 
awkward  manner  in  which  she  blurted  out  the  intelli- 
gence without  looking  at  her.  Dorothy  murmured  some- 
thing in  reply  which  Grace  did  not  catch.  When  she 
did  cast  a  furtive  look  at  her  young  sister  she  saw  that 
her  face  was  white  and  her  lips  tightly  pressed  together. 

"  Poor  child !"  thought  Grace ;  "  I  fear  there  is  some- 


DOROTHY   FOX  251. 

thing  in  John's  suspicions.  I  should  have  been  more 
watchful,  but  I  had  better  t^ke  no  notice  now."  There- 
fore, though  her  kind  heart  prompted  her  to  say  some 
sympathetic  words,  she  refrained,  and  allowed  Dorothy 
to  leave  the  room. 

It  must  not  be  presumed  that  since  the  evening  when 
Dorothy  and  Charles  Verschoyle  parted  in  the  garden 
she  had  thought  nothing  more  of  their  interview.  But 
no  one  who  knew  Dorothy  would  have  believed  her  pos- 
sessed of  such  strength  of  mind  as  made  her  appear  to 
others  the  same  happy  and  contented  girl  she  had  for- 
merly been.  Of  the  tears  which  regret  and  unconquer- 
able love  drew  from  her  eyes  no  trace  was  visible  in  the 
morning,  though  half  the  night  was  spent  in  imaginary 
interviews  with  her  lover,  in  which  he  pleaded  vainly 
that  she  would  renounce  her  principles  and  become  a 
soldier's  wife. 

Dorothy  firmly  resolved  never  to  marry  any  man  but 
Charles  Verschoyle;  yet  marry  him  she  could  not. 
What !  forget  her  father,  her  mother,  and  all  the  lessons 
they  had  taught  her!  And  for  a  stranger,  too!  Impos- 
sible! Yet  Dorothy's  happiest  dream  was  that  Charles 
Verschoyle  might  forsake  his  profession  and  become  of 
like  mind  with  Friends  in  every  other  way.  She  never 
doubted  that  she  should  see  him  again.  But  she  re- 
solved that  this  interview  should  be  their  last,  and  that 
she  would  tell  him  they  must  part.  It  was  only  when 
the  news  of  his  departure  came  that  she  knew  how  much 
hope  had  hitherto  sustained  her.  Now,  as  she  sat  gazing 
vacantly,  she  could  only  repeat  to  herself  the  word 
"  Gone !" — gone  without  seeing  her,  without  a  word ! 
What  could  it  mean?  Then  the  hot  blood  rushed  to  her 
face  as  the  terrible  thought  flashed  upon  her  that  she 
had  acted  in  an  unmaidenly  manner  in  so  openly  betray- 


252  DOROTHY   FOX 

ing  her  love,  and  thus  had  lost  his  respect  forever.  "  Oh, 
but  to  see  him  again,  only  once  again!"  rose  from  her 
heart. 

Dorothy  knew  well  that  she  had  no  right  to  go  to  the 
Crewdsons,  now  that  her  duty  was  to  return  home,  and 
at  the  very  least  tell  her  father  that  she  could  not  marry 
Josiah.  But  her  feelings  led  one  way  and  her  duty  the 
other,  and  she  argued  that  it  would  be  better  that  JosiaH 
should  get  her  adverse  decision  from  her  own  lips.  Then, 
her  aunt  expected  her,  and  it  would  be  selfish  to  disap- 
point dear  Aunt  Abigail.  While  all  this  passed  through 
Dorothy's  mind,  she  endeavoured  to  give  no  heed  to  the 
whispered  hope,  "  Perhaps  at  York  I  shall  see  him  again ;" 
a  hope  prompted  by  a  newly  awakened  feeling  more  po- 
tent than  early  prejudices  or  principles.  Therefore  her 
fits  of  penitence— of  horror  that  she  was  deceiving  her 
parents,  and  of  shame  that  she  was  disregarding  the  rules 
of  the  Society — had  their  sway  for  the  moment,  and  then 
died  away.  This  hope,  however,  lived  on,  smouldering 
sometimes,  fiercely  burning  at  others,  but  ever  there  to 
comfort  and  sustain  its  sweet  companion.  Love.  There- 
fore Dorothy  did  not  speak  of  returning  home ;  and  it  was 
finally  arranged  that  under  the  care  of  one  of  Grace's 
servants,  who  was  going  to  York  for  her  holiday,  she 
would  leave  Fryston  on  the  Thursday  following  for 
Leeds. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

MISS   BROCKLEHURST   SPEAKS    HER    MIND 

Lady  Laura  Verschoyle  and  her  daughter  had  again 
taken  possession  of  27A,  Egmont  Street.  Their  departure 
from  Dyne  Court  had  been  delayed  by  Audrey's  real  ill- 
ness. Her  anxiety  had  induced  a  feverish,  nervous  at- 
tack which  rendered  her  removal  impossible ;  and  for  ten 
days  she  had  been  in  reality  an  invalid.  Since  then  they 
had  been  living  at  Hastings,  in  the  hope  that  the  sea  air 
would  recruit  her  health. 

Miss  Brocklehurst,  who  was  Lady  Laura's  cousin,  had 
a  house  there,  and  during  their  stay  they  were  her  guests. 

Lady  Laura,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  felt  great 
anxiety  about  Audrey's  health.  She  made  up  her  mind 
to  consult  a  physician  whenever  they  returned  to  London. 
She  was  quite  certain  that  there  was  something  seriously 
wrong  with  Audrey,  else  why  this  unusual  and  extraor- 
dinary conduct?  To  Miss  Brocklehurst  alone  did  she 
confide  her  fears,  hoping  that  her  cousin  might  suggest 
some  solution  of  a  mystery  which  puzzled  her  greatly. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  Maria,"  said  her  ladyship,  as  she 
concluded  her  statement,  "  can  you  suggest  any  motive 
or  reason  for  such  unaccountable  behaviour?" 

"  Not  if  you  are  telling  me  the  whole  truth,"  answered 
'Miss  Brocklehurst.  "  But  are  you  sure  that  you  are  not 
keeping  in  the  background  some  good-looking  but  penni- 
less young  man  to  whom  Audrey  has  lost  her  heart^-of 
which  I  should  say  she  had  very  little,  by  the  by — as 
well  as  her  head,  which  is  her  strong  point,  for  I  do  not 

2S3 


254  DOROTHY   FOX 

think  your  daughter  a  beauty,  Laura,  and  I  have  always 
told  you  so." 

"  Disgusting  old  maid !"  thought  Lady  Laura  to  her- 
self ;  "  when  Audrey  is  married  to  Mr.  Ford  I  really  think 
ril  tell  her  my  mind."  But  she  answered,  blandly,  "  So 
you  have,  dear  cousin ;  but  still,  she  gets  an  immense  deal 
of  attention." 

"  Ah,  so  did  I  when  I  was  young." 

"  Your  fifty  thousand  pounds  may  have,"  her  ladyship 
thought  to  herself  as  she  continued  aloud,  "  I  am  sure 
you  did.  But  you  were  asking  about  young  men.  Wellj 
there  was  not  one  there  save  Charles  and  a  Mr.  Dyne- 
court,  who  was  dying  for  Miss  Bingham,  the  girl  to 
whom  Charles  behaved  so  shamefully." 

"  Shamefully !"  echoed  Miss  Brocklehurst,  contemptu- 
ously ;  "  with  you,  Laura,  that  depends  on  the  amount 
of  money  the  girl  has.  You  defended  him  warmly  enough 
in  that  affair  with  Constance  Stanmore." 

"  Now,  my  dear  Maria,  I  assure  you,  you  were  quite 
mistaken  in  that  girl ;  she  was  as  artful  as  could  be,  and 
laid  a  trap  for  poor  Charles." 

"  Poor  Charles,  indeed !"  laughed  Miss  Brocklehurst ; 
"  he's  a  fit  subject  for  pity,  certainly.  Nonsense,  Laura, 
I  have  no  patience  with  you.  Charles  is  a  favourite  of 
mine.  Like  his  poor  father,  he  has  a  deal  of  good  in  him 
if  it  only  got  a  chance  of  coming  out ;  but  I  am  not  blind 
to  his  being  as  selfish  as  he  can  be,  and  if  somebody  or 
something  does  not  alter  him  he'll  be  a  self-indulgent 
middle-aged  man,  if  not  a  thoroughly  wicked  and  dis- 
agreeable old  one." 

"  I  am  sure,"  began  Lady  Laura,  in  an  aggrieved  voice, 
"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  such  things  of  my 
poor  children.  I  am  sure  Audrey  and  Charles  are  de- 
voted to  you,  Maria." 


DOROTHY   FOX  255 

"  No,  they  are  not,"  replied  Miss  Brocklehurst,  with  an 
amused  smile  on  her  face ;  "  and,  better  still,  they  don't 
pretend  to  be.  Whenever  I  get  a  bit  of  toadying  from 
them  it  comes  from  them  with  a  bad  grace  that  all  your 
drilling  cannot  hide.  I  am  not  speaking  against  them, 
Laura,  for  in  my  way  I  am  fond  of  them  both;  but 
you  and  I  are  relations,  you  know,  and  relations  can 
afford  to  say  what  they  think,  and  speak  the  truth  to 
each  other.  You  always  do,  I  know,  so  you  must 
allow  me  the  same  privilege.  I  can  tell  you  that  I  con- 
sider your  children's  bringing  up  would  have  spoiled 
the  finest  nature  ever  bestowed  on  a  human  being.  Now 
don't  begin  about  the  sacrifices  you  have  made,  because 
every  time  you  have  wanted  to  borrow  a  hundred  pounds 
I  have  heard  all  about  them.  I  am  not  blaming  you, 
Laura;  for  though  they  are  your  children  they  are  no 
more  like  you  than  I  am,  and  I  daresay  you  understand 
them  just  as  little." 

By  this  time  Lady  Laura  had  made  very  free  use  of  that 
valuable  accessory,  her  handkerchief.  Whether  her  tears 
ever  did  really  flow  no  one  knew,  but  from  the  display  she 
made  of  her  handkerchief,  the  effect  generally  produced 
was  good. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered,  in  a  subdued  tone,  "  I  can 
say  nothing;  but  it  is  rather  hard  to  have  done  all  a 
mother  could  do  for  Audrey,  and  then,  because  she  takes 
some  idle  whim,  to  have  it  said  to  me  that  I  have  been 
negligent,  and  have  allowed  her  to  compromise  herself 
with  some  penniless — adventurer." 

Miss  Brocklehurst  could  not  forbear  laughing  at  Lady 
Laura  allowing  the  hard  knocks  to  go  by  and  settling 
upon  an  imaginary  grievance.  "  Oh,  make  your  mind 
easy  on  that  score,"  she  said ;  "  I  do  not  suppose  poor 
Audrey's    character    will    ever    come    forth    with    such 


256  DOROTHY   FOX 

strength  that  she  will  refuse  a  rich,  vulgar  old  man  be- 
cause some  fascinating  fellow  of  her  own  age  and  con- 
dition has  taken  her  heart  captive.  If  she  did  so  I  should 
be  proud  of  my  goddaughter,  as  I  am  of  Charlie,  if  want 
of  love  was  his  true  motive  in  this  Bingham  affair." 

Even  Lady  Laura's  patience  had  its  limits.  This  was 
too  much  for  her.    And  she  rose,  saying,  angrily, — 

"  I  really  believe,  Maria,  if  my  children  married  beg- 
gars, or  the  very  tradespeople's  belongings,  you  would 
be  delighted,  and  triumph  over  me." 

"  No,  I  should  not,  Laura.  I  should  be  sorry ;  al- 
though, perhaps,  it  would  be  better  for  them  than  many 
matches  which  the  world  calls  splendid  and  eligible. 
Don't  be  angry ;  remember  I  have  had  fifty  years'  rivalry 
with  money.  To  it  most  of  the  lovers  I  ever  had  paid 
their  court;  and  so  I  glory  over  every  defeat  of  Mam- 
mon, and  rejoice  when  mine  ancient  enemy  gets  the  worst 
of  it.  There,  there ;  sit  down,  and  don't  look  so  mourn- 
ful. If,  as  you  say,  there  is  nobody  else  to  influence  her 
choice,  of  course  it  must  be  an  idle  whim,  which  will 
soon  pass  over;  so  that,  before  the  end  of  the  season, 
Croesus  will  doubtless  be  your  son-in-law." 

Could  Audrey  have  heard  this  conversation,  it  might 
have  given  her  a  grain  of  that  comfort  she  just  now 
stood  so  sorely  in  need  of.  She  longed  for  some  one  to 
talk  to  about  this  care  which  was  destroying  her  peace 
of  mind.  She  thought  of  the  women  she  had  known — 
women  who  had  undoubtedly  married  for  money  or  posi- 
tion. Had  they  gone  through  such  struggles  and  tempta- 
tions? Had  they  fought,  and  conquered,  and  come  forth 
victorious,  wreathed  with  triumphant  smiles  ?  Night  and 
day  the  conflict  seemed  to  go  on  within  her,  and  from  it 
there  was  no  rest  nor  respite;  she  could  make  no  deci- 
sion and  arrive  at  no  conclusion.     She  had  great  dread 


DOROTHY   FOX  257 

of  meeting  Mr.  Ford  before  her  mind  was  fully  made  up. 
At  Hastings  she  was  safe;  but  once  back  in  Egmont 
Street,  he  might  present  himself  to  her  at  any  moment. 

Miss  Brocklehurst  looked  at  her  earnestly,  as  they  stood 
waiting  for  the  train ;  and,  while  Lady  Laura  was  asking 
Marshall  some  questions,  she  said,  "  Audrey,  if  you  want 
another  change  at  any  time,  remember  you  can  always 
come  to  me.  Nonsense,  my  dear,  it  is  only  right ;  you  are 
my  godchild,  you  know." 

After  they  had  gone.  Miss  Brocklehurst,  meditating  on 
the  careworn  look  on  Audrey's  face,  said  to  herself, 
"  There's  something  on  that  girl's  mind,  I  am  certain. 
There's  more  in  this  sudden  change  than  meets  the  eye. 
I  wonder  what  it  can  be?  Her  mother  said  she  had  not 
seen  any  one ;  but  then  Laura's  a  fool,  and  never  speaks 
the  truth.  On  my  way  home  I'll  propose  to  stay  in  Eg- 
mont Street  for  a  few  days,  and  then  I  shall  find  out  more 
about  it.  She  looks  very  ill,  and  altered.  It  may  be  some 
hopeless  love-affair.    Poor  Audrey !" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

EQUAL  TO  THE  OCCASION 

When  Lady  Laura  Verschoyle  left  Dyne  Court  she 
promised  to  write  to  Mr.  Ford  on  their  arrival  in  Egmont 
Street,  and  said  that  she  should  then  expect  to  hear  when 
they  might  see  him  there.  They  had  now  been  at  home 
more  than  a  week,  and  although  she  feared  that  Audrey 
was  not  yet  in  a  state  to  receive  her  eligible  admirer,  she 
could  not  longer  delay  writing  to  Mr.  Ford. 

"  Now,"  thought  her  ladyship,  "  I  must  so  word  this 
note  that  his  fears  will  not  be  unduly  excited,  for  his 
anxiety  might  bring  him  to  town  at  once.  But  I  should 
like  him  to  know  that  Audrey  is  too  unwell  to  bear  any 
agitation.  Dear  me,  how  thankful  I  shall  be  when  it  is 
all  settled  and  she  is  married !  I  cannot  stand  these  wor- 
ries as  I  once  did."  She  sat  thinking  thus  for  some  time, 
and  then  wrote: 

"  My  DEAR  Mr.  Ford, — I  have  been  wanting  so  much  to  write 
to  you  ever  since  my  return  home,  which  was  on  Saturday." 
("  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  he'll  think  that  means  the  day  before  yes- 
terday.") "  I  know  you  are  very  anxious  to  hear  about  our  dear 
Audrey.  What  a  comfort  it  is  for  me  to  remember  that  now  I 
have  some  one  who  has  a  right  to  share  all  my  troubles  on  her 
account!  Dear  girl,  I  wish  I  could  give  a  more  satisfactory  ac- 
count of  her.  Her  nervous  system  continues  in  such  a  sensitive 
state  that  Dr.  Kenlis  says  the  slightest  excitement  might  bring 
a  relapse.  Still,  he  assures  me  there  is  no  cause  for  anxiety.  By 
the  end  of  another  month,  if  his  directions  are  attended  to, 
and  she  is  kept  perfectly  quiet,  she  will  be  quite  her  former  self. 
Of  course  I  feel  bound  to  comply  with  his  injunctions,  although, 
258 


DOROTHY   FOX  259 

I  confess,  I  am  greatly  tempted  to  disobey  them,  and  ask  you  to 
come  and  see  us.  I  do  not  think  she  will  put  up  with  this  re- 
striction much  longer.  She  is  constantly  speaking  of  your  prom- 
ised visit.  I  dare  not  tell  her  that  I  am  writing,  for  she  would 
insist  on  seeing  the  letter,  and  she  has  no  idea  of  her  own  weak- 
ness. This  is  the  reason  why  you  have  no  message  from  her.  I 
cannot  tell  you,  dear  Mr.  Ford,  how  eagerly  I  look  forward  to 
certain  coming  events,  or  how  sure  I  feel  that  in  entrusting  my 
beloved  child  to  your  keeping  I  am  securing  her  happiness,  and 
the  happiness  of  her  mother  as  well. 

"  Yours  most  truly  and  affectionately, 

"Laura  Verschoyle." 

"  Now  I  don't  think  I  have  said  so  much  as  will  lead 
him  to  come;  nor  so  little  that  he  will  fancy  we  don't 
want  him.  I  think  I  shall  have  another  conversation  with 
Audrey.  She  must  be  brought  round,  of  course.  I  can- 
not think  what  madness  has  seized  her.  She  gives  no 
reason,  but,  like  a  parrot,  senselessly  repeats,  *  I  cannot 
help  it.  If  you  let  him  come  here,  I  know  I  shall  refuse 
him.'  It  is  really  more  than  human  nature  can  endure. 
Job,  indeed !  I  never  read  that  he  had  a  trial  of  this  kind. 
However,  she  shall  have  no  new  dresses;  and  I  am  de- 
termined that  I  shall  neither  ask  any  one  here  nor  take 
her  anywhere.  I  think  if  I  can  carry  out  this  plan  I  am 
sure  to  succeed.  I  have  put  forth  every  effort  to  find  out 
what  she  means,  and  I  have  tried  Marshall  in  every  way, 
but  I  don't  believe  she  knows  anything  either,  although 
she's  as  artful  as  can  be." 

Never  during  the  whole  course  of  her  life  had  her  lady- 
ship been  so  much  puzzled.  Audrey  had  tried  by  every 
means  to  avoid  being  left  alone  with  her  mother,  as  she 
was  sure  the  conversation  would  turn  upon  the  one  sub- 
ject. At  Hastings  these  manoeuvres  were  comparatively 
easy;  but  now  opportunities  were  constantly  occurring, 
and  she  had  to  listen  to  long  dissertations  on  the  impos- 


^  DOROTHY   FOX 

sibility  of  their  continuing  to  live  in  the  same  style,  Lady 
Laura  urging  that  she  must  give  up  her  carriage. 

After  despatching  her  letter  to  Mr.  Ford  her  ladyship 
went  into  the  dining-room,  where  her  daughter  was 
writing.    She  meant  to  try  her  skill  once  more, 

"  What  a  dismal  day  this  is,  to  be  sure !  November  in 
London  is  quite  unbearable ;  one  ought  to  be  in  excellent 
health  to  endure  this  continual  fog  and  rain." 

"  I  don't  think  we  have  had  much  cause  to  complain 
of  the  weather  yet,  mamma ;  yesterday  was  a  lovely  day." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  perhaps  you  are  able  to  enjoy  things 
more  than  I  can.  My  spirits  are  so  bad,  that  it  makes  little 
difference  to  me  whether  the  day  be  bright  or  gloomy. 
The  disappointments  I  have  had  have  been  rather  too 
much  for  me.  But  I  am  foolish  to  talk  of  them,  for  only 
sensitive  people  have  any  feeling  for  the  sufferings  of 
others.  I  often  think  of  dear  Lady  Lascelles,  She  used 
to  say  I  was  the  only  one  who  could  give  her  any  comfort, 
because  I  so  entirely  sympathized  with  her.  Poor  thing! 
what  a  martyr  she  was — confined  to  her  room  for  years, 
and  often  for  months  not  able  to  see  one  of  her  family! 
Ah !    Mary  had  a  great  deal  to  answer  for." 

"Why?"  said  Audrey;  "what  had  Mary  to  do  with 
it?" 

"  What  had  Mary  to  do  with  it !"  returned  Lady  Laura, 
in  an  injured  tone.  "  Why,  everything.  Until  she  gave 
up  Sir  Henry  Skipwith,  and  disgraced  herself  by  running 
away  with  the  tutor,  her  poor  mother  was  as  well  as  I 
am. 

"  Nonsense,  mamma ;  Lady  Lascelles  was  not  taken  ill 
for  more  than  two  years  after  Mary's  marriage.  Besides, 
she  had  rheumatic  gout." 

"  Excuse  me,  Audrey.  From  the  time  when  that  un- 
grateful girl  left  her  home  Lady  Lascelles  never  knew  a 


DOROTHY   FOX  261 

moment's  peace  of  mind.  Though  the  world  chose  to  say 
she  had  rheumatic  gout,  those  who  loved  her  knew  she 
died  of  a  broken  heart.  Of  course  it  was  two  years  be- 
fore her  family  noticed  it.  Just  as  it  is  with  me.  I  might 
be  walking  into  my  grave,  and  until  I  was  on  the  very 
brink  of  it,  neither  you  nor  Charles  would  imagine  that 
I  was  weaker  than  yourselves.  However,  that  does  not 
much  matter.  When  I  am  gone  you  may  see  differently. 
But  I  have  not  much  to  live  for.  I  used  to  think  that  I 
should  see  my  children  settled  and  well  established.  I 
was  foolish  enough  to  think  they  would  be  pleased  to 
see  their  mother  happy;  but  all  that  is  gone  now.  The 
one  pretends  that  he  cannot  marry  because  he  does  not 
feel  a  proper  amount  of  affection  for  a  pretty  girl  with  a 
handsome  fortune.  The  other  has  not  even  that  poor 
excuse;  to  an  offer  of  every  luxury  and  refinement  that 
money  can  procure — a  country  seat,  a  town  house,  horses, 
carriages,  diamonds,  and  carte-blanche  to  spend  what- 
ever she  pleases — her  only  reply  is,  *  Don't  let  me  see 
him.  I  cannot  help  it;  I  know  I  shall  refuse  him.'  I 
never  knew  there  was  madness  in  the  family,  but  this 
looks  exceedingly  like  it." 

"  Don't  say  any  more,  mamma,"  said  Audrey.  "  All 
the  bitter  things  you  could  say  would  not  equal  my  own 
surprise.  If  I  do  not  marry  Mr.  Ford,  it  will  be  because 
I  cannot,  not  because  I  will  not." 

"If  you  would  give  me  some  reason  I  could  listen  more 
patiently  to  these  ravings.  You  must  know  the  cause.  Is 
there  any  one  else  you  think  of  marrying?" 

"  No.  I  do  not  suppose  any  one  else  will  give  me  the 
opportunity." 

"  Well !"  laughed  Lady  Laura,  scornfully,  "  I  am  glad 
to  find  you  have  so  much  sense  left.  I  quite  agree  with 
you  there.     For  the  last  three  weeks  you  have  looked 


^2  DOROTHY   FOX 

five-and-thirty — ^your  eyes  are  dull,  not  half  their  usual 
size,  and  the  lines  under  them  are  worse  than  mine.  Your 
hair  has  lost  its  gloss,  and  has  just  that  look  hair  always 
has  before  it  falls  off.  Begging  that  Mr.  Ford  may  not 
see  you,  indeed!  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  you  need 
alarm  yourself.  There  are  not  many  men  who  would 
care  to  ask  you  to  sit  at  the  head  of  their  table  as  you  are 
looking  at  present."  Then,  finding  Audrey  made  no 
answer,  she  continued,  "  Sometimes  I  think  you  must 
have  a  hopeless  fancy  for  some  one,  or  have  fallen  in  love 
with  a  mauvais  sujet." 

"  Had  I  done  so  you  would  certainly  have  found  it  out," 
replied  her  daughter,  bitterly.  "  See  how  very  soon  you 
discovered  that  Mr.  Dynecourt  was  dying  to  marry  Miss 
Bingham." 

"  So  he  was,"  said  Lady  Laura ;  "  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  will  effect  his  purpose  now.  I  saw  him  yesterday 
talking  to  her  in  Bond  Street.  He  was  leaning  in  at  the 
brougham  window,  devouring  every  word  she  said.  He 
turned  to  see  who  she  bowed  to,  turned  crimson,  and 
gave  me  the  stiffest  salutation.  I  am  sure  he  need  not 
have  troubled  himself  to  be  so  distant.  He  may  marry 
the  niece,  and  the  aunt  too,  for  aught  I  care." 

Audrey  closed  her  desk  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 
She  went  slowly  up-stairs,  and,  locking  the  door  after 
her,  sat  down  before  the  mirror — pale  and  careworn! 
Would  he  care  for  her  now?  The  tears  dropped  one  by 
one  until  they  fell  in  a  thick  shower.  So  soon  forgotten ; 
his  love  transferred  to  another !  "  Devouring  every  word 
she  said."  It  could  only  be  her  mother's  exaggeration; 
it  could  not  be  true.  But  the  thought  rankled,  and  she 
found  herself  hating  the  girl  who  could  look  upon  his 
face  and  hear  his  voice,  while  she  sat  hungering  there  as 
helpless  as  a  prisoner  bound  hand  and  foot. 


DOROTHY   FOX  263 

Soon  afterwards  her  mother  tapped  at  the  door.  "  I 
have  just  had  a  letter  from  your  aunt  Spencer,"  she  said; 
"  she  wants  us  to  go  to  Beauwood  on  Thursday  for  a  few 
days.  The  Delvins  are  there.  She  is  sure  to  be  offended 
if  we  refuse ;  and  yet  I  do  not  care  about  taking  you  from 
home  just  now." 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  by  yourself?  My  illness  is  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  me.  Nobody  you  care  about  need  know 
you  have  gone." 

"  I  should  be  back  on  Saturday,"  said  Lady  Laura. 
**  But  how  will  you  get  on  alone  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  shall  do  very  well.  I  would  rather  not  go, 
but  I  think  it  may  do  you  good." 

"  Well,  I  really  hope  so,"  replied  her  ladyship,  **  for  I 
require  some  change.  So  if  you  think  you  will  not  be 
very  dull  alone,  I  shall  accept.  She  only  asks  me  until 
Saturday,  so  I  shall  be  sure  to  be  home  then." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

"  THE   EXCEPTION    PROVES   THE   RULE*' 

Next  morning,  when  the  letter-bag  was  brought  to  Mr. 
Ford,  he  disposed  of  all  his  correspondence  before  he 
opened  the  letter  from  Lady  Laura.  Having  carefully 
read  it  twice,  he  slowly  folded  it  up,  and  said  to  himself, — 

"  I  believe  this  woman  is  playing  me  false  in  some  way ; 
and  I  can't  help  thinking  that  young  Dynecourt  is  con- 
nected with  it.  I  knew  something  had  gone  wrong  in  that 
quarter  when  he  left  in  such  a  hurry;  but  I  thought  it 
was  all  on  his  side.  The  girl  has  been  too  well  drilled 
into  the  idea  of  making  a  good  match  to  allow  her  feel- 
ings to  carry  her  away.  Still,  things  don't  look  clear.  I 
am  very  fond  of  Audrey,  and,  as  I  must  marry,  I  would 
prefer  her  to  any  woman  I  have  seen.  There's  a  great 
deal  of  good  in  her  which  that  Lady  Jezebel  hasn't  been 
able  to  root  out.  I  know  if  she  married  me  of  her  own 
free  will  she'd  try  to  make  me  happy;  but  I  don't  want 
her  to  be  forced  into  it  if  she  is  attached  to  somebody 
else.  During  the  day  I'll  think  how  I  had  best  act  to  get 
at  the  truth.  Before  I  see  her  I  shall  just  call  upon  Mr. 
Dynecourt,  casually  mention  her  name,  and  then  enter 
into  a  little  conversation  about  the  Verschoyles.  In  this 
way  I  am  likely  to  see  if  there  is  anything  underhand 
going  on — not  that  I  think  it's  likely.  I  can  trust  the 
young  folks,  but  not  her  ladyship;  she's  a  slippery  cus- 
tomer, and  could  wriggle  herself  in  or  out  of  any- 
thing." 

The  result  of  these  reflections  was  that  Mr.  Ford  de- 
264 


DOROTHY   FOX  265 

termined  to  go  to  town  on  the  Thursday  morning,  and 
stay  a  few  days.  Arrived  in  London,  he  went  first  to  the 
Temple,  apparently  on  some  business.  Finding  Geoffrey 
Dynecourt  much  occupied,  he  secured  his  company  for 
dinner  that  evening,  and  then  made  some  other  calls. 
From  Mrs.  Winterton  he  heard  that  Miss  Verschoyle 
seemed  quite  recovered.  The  Verschoyles  had  been  in 
town  about  a  fortnight,  she  thought;  and  she  had  met 
them  driving,  but  they  had  not  yet  called  upon  her. 

When  Miss  Bingham  came  in,  she  could  speak  of 
nothing  but  an  afternoon  party  her  uncle  was  going  to 
give.  "  It  is  an  idea  of  mine,  Mr.  Ford,  and  you  must 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  it.  You  know,  my  uncle  has 
an  immense  conservatory,  which  can  be  beautifully 
lighted.  I  proposed  that  he  should  invite  a  number  of 
people;  engage  some  musicians,  give  us  some  tea,  and 
after  that  let  us  go  about  and  talk,  you  know.  Aunt 
declares  it  will  be  a  failure,  but  I  am  sure  it  won't.  The 
conservatory  can  be  nicely  warmed,  and  some  of  the 
plants  removed  and  others  grouped  about.  I  think  it  is 
charming,  and  people  will  be  delighted  to  come,  because 
they  have  nowhere  to  go  at  this  time  of  year." 

"  It  sounds  very  nice,"  said  Mr.  Ford.  "  I  am  sure  if 
you  look  after  things  it  will  go  off  well." 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Mrs.  Winterton ;  "  Selina  always 
talks  a  great  deal  beforehand.  When  once  she  gets  there, 
she  will  sit  down  with  two  or  three  of  her  friends,  and 
never  so  much  as  think  how  the  rest  are  getting  on." 

"  Now,  aunt,  I  am  sure  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind. 
You  must  promise  to  come,  Mr.  Ford ;  and,  oh !  I  wish 
Miss  Verschoyle  would  come,  she  talks  so  well.  You 
might  persuade  her." 

"  My  dear  Selina,"  said  Mrs.  Winterton,  "  you  forget 
that  Lady  Laura  has  not  called  upon  us  yet." 


266  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Oh !  but  I  don't  believe  Miss  Verschoyle  would  mind 
that,  and  Lady  Laura  told  us  she  intended  to  call." 

"  I'll  tell  her  how  much  you  wish  it,"  replied  Mr. 
Ford,  smiling  at  Miss  Bingham's  unusual  enthusiasm. 
*'  I  daresay  I  shall  manage  something.  When  is  it 
to  be?" 

"  This  day  week.  I  do  not  want  the  invitation  to  be  a 
long  one,  because  it  is  to  appear  quite  an  impromptu 
affair.  My  uncle  is  not  married,  you  know,  so  I  am  send- 
ing out  the  invitations  for  him." 

"  Well,  then,  as  I  am  likely  to  see  Miss  Verschoyle  to- 
day or  to-morrow,  shall  I  take  her  a  card  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  that  would  be  much  nicer  than  sending  it ; 
and  you  could  explain  matters  to  her." 

Mr.  Ford  did  not  intend  to  call  at  Egmont  Street  until 
the  next  day.  He  had  determined,  before  seeing  Audrey, 
to  have  a  little  conversation  with  Geoffrey  Dynecourt. 
So  that  evening,  as  they  sat  together  over  their  wine,  the 
elder  gentleman  introduced  the  subject  in  a  very  easy 
manner,  although  he  saw  that  his  companion  tried  to 
evade  the  subject  and  change  the  conversation. 

"  I  shall  call  at  Egmont  Street  to-morrow,  and  then  I 
must  tell  Miss  Verschoyle  that  you  dined  with  me,  and 
chatted  over  the  days  we  all  spent  together,"  said  Mr. 
Ford. 

At  that  moment  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  hated  the  old  man. 
Why  should  Mr.  Ford  be  his  successful  rival  always? 
Why  should  he  possess  the  old  lands,  and  likewise  come 
between  him  and  the  woman  he  worshipped  ?  Dynecourt 
could  not  command  his  voice  to  reply,  fearing  he  might 
utter  some  of  the  bitter  things  it  seemed  so  hard  to  keep 
back. 

"  I  saw  Miss  Bingham  to-day,"  Mr.  Ford  went  on, 
taking  no  notice  of  his  guest's  silence.     "  She  is  a  nice 


DOROTHY   FOX;  267. 

girl,  and  I  think  would  make  a  very  nice  wife.  You 
should  have  tried  your  hand  there." 

"  Should  I  ?"  answered  Geoffrey.  "  Well,  it's  not  too 
late  yet;  I  have  promised  to  go  down  to  some  party  her 
uncle  is  giving  at  Ealing.    How  much  money  has  she?" 

"  What !  is  that  to  be  the  charm  for  you,  Dynecourt  ? 
You  see  I  don't  expect  you  to  be  like  most  of  the  young 
men  of  the  present  day." 

"  I  don't  see  how  one  can  help  it,"  said  Mr.  Dynecourt, 
bitterly.  "  Some  one  says,  *  God  made  the  woman  for  the 
man;'  the  world  rather  makes  the  man  for  the  woman. 
Only  fools  fall  in  love,  and  they  are  laughed  at  by  the  very 
idols  they  bow  down  to.  Money  is  the  charm  by  which 
a  man  can  win  a  woman's  heart.  Perhaps  Miss  Bingham, 
having  a  fortune,  may  be  willing  to  barter  it  for  some- 
thing else.  Dynecourt  is  not  a  bad  name,  although  it  is 
threadbare.  It  and  the  family  pedigree  might  weigh  a 
little  in  the  scale  of  an  heiress  whose  blood  is  not  of  the 
purest  blue." 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Ford ; 
"  there  are  true-hearted  women  as  well  as  true-hearted 
men." 

"Are  there?"  he  replied.  "  I  don't  believe  it.  They 
died  out  with  our  mothers.  Women  now  teach  us  to  have 
no  faith  in  anything.  If  we  are  selfish,  who  is  to  cure  us? 
If  we  are  hardened  and  worn  by  the  world,  who  is  to  re- 
deem us  ?  The  friends  of  a  reckless  man  look  forward  to 
marriage  as  his  salvation,  his  last  hope;  and  if  women 
have  no  higher  aims  than  we  have,  are  our  superiors  in 
cunning,  and  at  least  our  equals  in  want  of  heart,  in 
greed,  and  in  love  of  self,  what  is  there  but  hopeless 
misery  for  both  ?" 

Mr.  Ford  shook  his  head.  "  You  are  too  hard,"  he 
said ;  "  you  must  remember,  women  are  human." 


268  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Yes ;  and  let  them  be  true  to  their  nature  and  their 
very  faults  become  dear.  If  you  love  a  woman  with  your 
whole  heart,  and  she  loves  you  in  return ;  and  if,  because 
of  that  divine  bond,  she  is  willing  to  make  the  best  of 
you,  and  of  herself,  and  of  the  life  she  hopes  to  spend 
with  you,  to  others  she  may  be  stupid,  weak,  and  frivolous, 
but  she  is  the  Eve  of  your  Paradise.  I  believe  clever 
women  are  a  snare  to  lead  one  on  to  destruction.  Miss 
Bingham  has  not  that  drawback,  so  wish  me  success,  sir." 

"  Not  I,"  said  Mr.  Ford,  gravely,  "  because  I  do  not 
believe  success  would  bring  happiness." 

"  Happiness !"  replied  Mr.  Dynecourt,  laughing ;  "  I 
blotted  that  word  out  long  ago.  But  it  is  getting  late,  and 
I  am  keeping  you  up,  sir.  Good-night,"  he  said ;  but  he 
could  not  help  adding,  "  When  you  repeat  our  tete-a-tete 
to  Miss  Verschoyle,  do  not  omit  the  latter  part.  I  feel 
quite  safe  in  her  knowing  my  opinion  of  her  sex,  as,  of 
course,  the  exception  proves  the  rule  in  her  case." 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

.   .  BEST   FOR   BOTH 

About  two  o'clock  next  day  Mr.  Ford  presented  him- 
self at  27A,  Egmont  Street,  and  inquired  for  Lady  Laura 
Verschoyle.  He  was  told  that  she  was  out  of  town,  stay- 
ing at  Beauwood  for  a  few  days.  Miss  Verschoyle  was 
at  home,  however — would  he  see  her? 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  very  much  pleased  that  he  had 
timed  his  visit  so  well ;  and  he  was  ushered  into  Audrey's 
presence. 

"  Mr,  Ford !"  she  exclaimed,  starting  up ;  "  this  is  quite 
unexpected ;  I  had  no  idea  you  were  in  town." 

"  Well,  I  am  only  paying  a  flying  visit,"  he  answered ; 
"  and  I  was  anxious  to  see  if  you  were  looking  stronger." 

"  Oh,  yes !  thank  you.  I  am  quite  strong  now."  Then 
trying  vainly  to  regain  her  usual  composed  manner,  she 
went  on,  nervously,  "  Mamma  isn't  at  home ;  she  will  be 
so  sorry  not  to  have  seen  you;  she  is  staying  with  my 
aunt,  Lady  Spencer.    Have  you  had  luncheon  ?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  my  dear.  I  did  not  look  forward  to 
having  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  alone.  Are  you  not 
very  dull  in  this  house  all  by  yourself  ?" 

"  I !  Oh,  no,  I  rather  like  it ;  though  I  am  almost  well, 
I  am  not  quite  strong  yet,  so  I  do  not  take  kindly  to 
gaiety." 

Mr.  Ford  then  asked  Miss  Verschoyle  various  questions 
about  her  health,  and  the  benefit  she  had  derived  from  the 
sea-air.  While  seemingly  engrossed  by  her  account  of 
herself,  he  was  noting  her  unusual   nervousness,   her 

269 


270  DOROTHY    FOX 

heightened  colour,  and  an  evident  struggle  to  be  at  ease. 
These  things  were  very  new  to  the  usual  self-possession 
and  repose  of  Audrey's  manner.  After  a  time  she  began 
to  recover  herself,  and  to  direct  all  her  tact  and  energy 
to  keeping  the  conversation  from  any  but  general  sub- 
jects. 

Richard  Ford  was  a  keen  observer.  During  his  busy 
life  he  had  been  accustomed  to  watch  men  and  their  mo- 
tives narrowly.  From  the  time  he  began  to  take  an  in- 
terest in  Audrey,  he  had  gauged  her  and  her  mother  with 
tolerable  correctness.  He  formed  an  opinion  not  wide 
of  the  mark  when  he  thought,  "  I  believe  for  some  reason 
that  this  girl  does  not  want  me  to  propose  to  her  yet. 
Well!  I  will  leave  that  to  circumstances.  But  as  I  may 
not  get  such  another  opportunity  as  this,  I  will  sound  her 
about  Dynecourt;"   so  he  said,  suddenly, — 

"  I  have  a  message  for  you  from  Mr.  Dynecourt." 

Audrey's  blood  seemed  to  withdraw,  that  it  might  rush 
back  with  greater  force  to  her  face  and  neck  and  dye 
them  crimson.  To  meet  Mr.  Ford's  gaze  was  impossible ; 
so  she  gave  a  little  nervous  laugh,  and  said,  "  Indeed  I 
how  odd !" 

"Odd!"  echoed  Mr.  Ford;  "why?  I  thought  you 
were  great  friends.    Are  you  not  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  liked  Mr.  Dynecourt  much ;  but  one  does  not 
always  keep  up  acquaintanceship  formed  when  visiting." 

"  No,  but  I  thought  he  was  going  to  call  here  often, 
and  that  you  took  a  kindly  interest  in  him." 

"  But  he  has  not  called  yet." 

"I  am  surprised  to  hear  that,"  answered  Mr.  Ford; 
"  I  shall  tell  him  you  have  been  alone,  and  expected  him." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Ford,"  said  Audrey ;  adding,  "  I 
■would  rather  you  wouldn't  say  anything,  but  leave  it  to 
himself." 


DOROTHY   FOX  271 

Audrey  never  looked  up  while  this  was  being  said ;  for 
she  felt  Mr.  Ford's  eyes  were  upon  her.  And  she  was 
correct ;  he  was  watching  her  narrowly. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  there  has  been  some  little 
misunderstanding  between  you  that  you  will  not  tell  me 
about.  I  am  sorry  for  this,  as  I  wanted  your  assistance 
about  him.  He  is  a  great  favourite  of  mine,  and  I  fear 
he  is  going  to  do  a  very  foolish  thing." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  said  Audrey,  eagerly,  forgetting  her- 
self in  her  anxiety  for  him. 

"  I  need  not  say  I  am  only  telling  this  to  you,  Miss 
Verschoyle." 

She  nodded  in  assent. 

"  Well,  then,  last  night,  over  our  cigars,  he  told  me  that 
he  thought  of  marrying."  Though  he  paused,  Audrey 
could  not  say  a  word ;  she  seemed  as  if  turned  to  stone. 
"  Of  course,  that  is  quite  as  it  should  be.  The  thing  I 
object  to  is,  that  having  apparently  had  some  disappoint- 
ment, which  has  made  him  bitter,  he  intends  to  propose 
to  a  certain  young  friend  of  ours,  not  because  he  thinks 
«he  will  make  him  happy,  but  because  she  has  a  fortune. 
Many  circumstances  may  make  a  man  or  woman  marry 
for  money,  and  as  long  as  they  have  no  other  attachment 
I  should  not  blame  them.  But  if  some  other  person  pos- 
sessed their  heart,  I  should  consider  them  to  be  acting 
wrongly.    What  is  your  opinion  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  ?"  replied  Audrey,  coldly. 

"  For  two  reasons :  I  should  much  like  to  hear  your 
ideas  on  the  subject,  knowing  they  would  be  mature  and 
sound.  Then,  Mr.  Dynecourt  made  some  very  bitter  re- 
marks about  women  last  night,  especially  as  to  their  want 
of  love  and  faith.  He  said  that  they  would  sacrifice  every 
■feeling  for  money,  and  that  it  was  the  true  elixir  by  which 
alone  their  hearts  were  touched.    He  afterwards  bade  me 


972  DOROTHY   FOX 

repeat  his  sentiments  to  you,  saying  that  '  you  might 
safely  hear  them,  as  you  had  proved  yourself  an  exception 
to  the  rule.'  " 

"  Then  tell  him  from  me  that  it  was  mean  and  cowardly 
of  him,"  said  Audrey,  flashing  up.  "  I  am  neither  better 
nor  worse  than  most  other  women.  I  devoutly  wish  I 
were ;"  and  she  rose  abruptly  and  went  to  the  window. 

"  My  suspicions  were  correct,  then,"  thought  Mr.  Ford. 
"  I  believe  she  loves  him ;  at  least  there  is  something 
between  them  that  is  hidden  from  me.  Should  I  be  wise 
in  asking  her  to  be  my  wife  ?  I  think  I  could  trust  her — 
it  may  be  only  a  passing  fancy  she  is  struggling  to  over- 
come. But  what  if  it  should  be  more  ? — I  believe  I  might 
trust  her  still." 

In  a  minute  Audrey  turned  round,  saying,  in  her  old 
gracious  way,  "  Pray  forgive  my  irritability,  Mr.  Ford ; 
a  little  more  allowance  is  made  for  invalids  than  for  other 
people." 

"  My  dear,  don't  speak  of  it.  I  do  not  want  you  to  be 
vexed  with  our  good  friend  Dynecourt,  for  I  am  sure  he 
had  no  intention  of  offending  you.  Perhaps,  poor  fellow, 
he  is  only  halting  between  two  evils.  When  I  saw  him, 
he  was  determined  to  try  for  an  appointment  in  India — 
a  horrid,  unhealthy  country,  and  complete  banishment. 
I  suppose  it  is  not  decided  yet,  but  I  hope  he'll  not  get  it." 

"  Oh,  no !"  said  poor  Audrey,  eagerly ;  "  beg  him  not 
to  try,  Mr.  Ford.  You  may  ask  him,  from  me,  not  to  go 
there." 

"  I  think  it  would  have  much  greater  weight  with  him 
if  you  asked  him  yourself.  I  am  the  bearer  of  an  invita- 
tion to  you,  similar  to  one  which  Mr.  Dynecourt  has 
already  accepted;"  and  Mr.  Ford  told  Audrey  of  the 
afternoon  party,  at  which  Miss  Bingham  was  so  anxious 
Audrey  should  be  present. 


DOROTHY   FOX  273 

Audrey  was  strongly  tempted  to  accept  the  invitation. 
Her  one  longing  now  was  to  see  Geoffrey  Dynecourt 
again.  Love  had  almost  proved  victorious.  She  knew 
what  her  decision  would  be  had  the  choice  to  be  made 
again  between  love  and  money.  She  had  argued  and 
taken  herself  to  task  in  every  possible  way.  Sometimes 
she  had  fancied  her  worldly  wisdom  had  convinced  her 
of  the  folly  of  her  passion.  But  some  trivial  circumstance, 
some  passing  thought  would  bring  it  back  with  renewed 
strength.  There  had  been  times,  too,  when  she  felt  she 
must  write  to  Geoffrey,  and  ask  him  to  come  to  her.  She 
would  tell  him  how  she  repented,  how  she  suffered.  But 
what  if  he  had  ceased  to  love  her,  if  he  hated,  scorned 
her?  No!  she  could  not  write.  In  times  gone  by  she 
had  not  hesitated  to  show  her  preference  openly,  but  now 
she  could  not  make  an  advance,  although  the  happiness 
of  her  life  seemed  to  depend  on  it.  But  at  a  word  or  a 
sign  from  him,  she  could  lay  her  very  heart  bare.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  any  chance  of  a  meeting  seemed  to  her 
like  hope  revived. 

Mr.  Ford  saw  her  hesitation,  and  said,  "  Your  mamma, 
I  believe,  intends  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Winterton." 

**  I  hardly  know  how  to  do,  but  I  think  I  will  write  a 
note  and  say  I  should  like  very  much  to  go,  but  as 
mamma  is  from  home  I  cannot  positively  accept,  not 
knowing  what  engagements  she  may  have  made.  When 
do  you  go  back  ?" 

"  To-morrow ;  but  I  shall  return  next  week,  when  I 
hope  to  make  a  longer  stay.  I  feel  rather  dull  at  home, 
now  that  all  my  friends  have  left  me." 

"  I  am  sure  you  must ;  a  large  house  like  yours  always 
seems  to  need  a  large  party  in  it,"  replied  Audrey. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Ford ;  "  and  yet  I  could  be  very 
happy  and  contented  with  a  companion  who  would  let 

18 


«74  DOROTHY   FOX 

me  take  a  great  interest  in  all  she  did,  and  in  return  kindly 
take  some  interest  in  my  favourite  pursuits." 

Audrey  gave  a  faint  smile ;  they  were  nearing  danger- 
ous ground.  Still  she  made  no  effort  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, as  she  would  have  done  at  the  beginning  of  Mr. 
Ford's  visit.  The  conversation  regarding  Geoffrey  Dyne- 
court  had  stirred  within  her  a  host  of  conflicting  feelings 
— ^bitter  anger,  tender  love,  and  dread  of  Geoffrey's  mar- 
rying or  of  his  going  abroad.  She  knew  now  that  when- 
ever Mr.  Ford's  offer  came  she  had  but  one  answer  that 
she  could  give  to  him. 

Mr.  Ford  greatly  wished  to  have  the  matter  settled. 
He  knew  that  if  Miss  Verschoyle  said  "  No,"  he  would 
be  disappointed.  He  did  not  for  a  moment  expect  such  an 
answer.  He  thought  he  would  at  all  events  broach  the 
subject,  and  then  let  things  drift  on  or  not,  according  to 
circumstances.  After  a  pause  he  continued,  "  I  am  often 
tempted  to  be  bold  enough  to  ask  some  lady  to  marry  me  j 
I  think — that  is,  I  would  try  to  make  her  happy." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would,"  said  Audrey,  encouragingly. 
It  was  so  much  easier  for  her  to  speak  now. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Verschoyle,  I  daresay  you  will  think 
it  very  foolish  of  an  old  man  like  me  not  to  marry  some- 
body of  my  own  age.  But  I  am  ambitious  enough  to  wish 
my  wife  to  be  a  very  beautiful  young  lady." 

"  Indeed !"   said  Audrey. 

"  Yes.  Do  you  think  it  shows  great  want  of  sense  ?" 
asked  the  old  gentleman,  somewhat  nervously. 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  Audrey.  "  I  am  sure  many  young 
ladies  would  be  very  pleased  to  accept  you." 

"  As  young  as  yourself?" 

"  Yes.  I  would  rather  marry  you,  Mr.  Ford,  than  many 
young  men  I  know." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Miss  Verschoyle,  will  you  accept  me  ? 


DOROTHY   FOX  275 

for  I  have  been  bold  enough  to  hope  I  might  see  you  mis- 
tress of  Dyne  Court." 

Audrey  waited  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  gravely, — 

"  Mr.  Ford,  you  have  done  me  an  honour  of  which  I 
am  very  unworthy.  If  I  were  to  accept  it,  I  should  be 
still  more  unworthy  of  it.  You  know  I  value  your  wealth, 
and  I  think  you  know  that  I  truly  value  your  many  good 
qualities.  If  I  married  you,  I  should  wish  to  make  you 
happy,  and  it  is  because  I  feel  that  I  could  not  do  it  that 
I  say— No." 

Mr.  Ford  was  silent.  At  length  he  said,  "  Miss  Ver- 
schoyle,  you  must  not  be  offended  at  my  asking  it,  but 
are  not  your  feelings  altered  in  some  way  since  you  left 
Dyne  Court?  I  think  I  should  have  had  a  different 
answer  there;  your  mother  wished  me  to  consider  your 
acceptance  as  certain." 

"  I  believe  mamma  very  much  wished  it ;  and  at  one 
time  I  greatly  desired  it  myself.  Even  now  I  very  much 
regret  that  it  is  best  for  both  of  us  that  I  must  decide  as 
I  do.  I  have  not  dealt  quite  fairly  with  you,  and  I  am 
sorry  you  feel  it.  I  fear  I  shall  fall  in  your  estimation, 
and  lose  a  friend  I  truly  value." 

"  One  question  more,  Miss  Verschoyle,  and  pray  don't 
think  it  impertinent.  Are  you  going  to  marry  any  one 
else?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  your  heart  is  still  free?" 

"  I  think  my  answers  have  come  to  an  end,  Mr.  Ford. 
I  am  very,  very  sorry  I  have  misled  you,  but  I  do  not 
refuse  you  in  order  to  secure  my  happiness  with  another." 

Audrey  rose,  as  if  to  intimate  that  the  interview  had 
best  terminate.    The  old  man  took  her  hand,  and  said, — 

"  My  dear,  I  have  no  wish  to  pry  into  your  secret ; 
you  have  acted  honourably  towards  me,  and  in  keeping 


i^  DOROTHY   FOX 

with  the  character  I  always  gave  you  credit  for.  If  I 
could  do  anything  to  secure  your  happiness,  believe  me 
I  would  do  it.  I  have  had  too  many  trials  in  life  for  dis- 
appointments to  have  the  keenness  and  bitterness  they 
have  in  youth.  Yet  this  is  a  disappointment  to  me.  But 
I  shall  strive  to  overcome  it,  so  that  I  may  rejoice  with 
all  my  heart  when  I  see  you  the  happy  wife  of  a  worthy 
husband." 

Audrey  could  not  speak.  The  tears  were  falling  from 
her  eyes,  but  she  tried  to  smile  on  the  kindly  old  man, 
who,  she  felt,  had  more  goodness  of  nature  than  she  had 
before  discovered. 

"  I  shall  come  again,"  he  said,  shaking  her  hand.  "  Not 
just  immediately,  but  soon;  until  then,  good-bye,  my 
dear,  good-bye." 

And  he  hurried  away,  saying  to  himself  as  he  went, 
"  That  girl  has  a  noble  nature,  in  spite  of  her  up-bringing! 
I  believe  now  it's  something  about  Dynecourt."  After 
pondering  for  some  time,  he  sighed,  thinking,  "  Well, 
it's  all  for  the  best,  I  suppose ;  but  oh !  if  it  had  but 
pleased  God  to  have  spared  my  poor  Patty !  It  is  hard  at 
my  age  to  be  trying  to  begin  life  afresh,  as  it  were  1" 


CHAPTER   XXX 

"  I    SHOULD    HAVE   TOLD   THEE." 

During  the  week  the  fashionable  chronicle  of  the  day 
announced  that  Lady  Laura  Verschoyle  and  Miss  Ver- 
schoyle  had  arrived  at  their  residence,  27A,  Egmont 
Street,  and  that  Captain  C.  Egerton  Verschoyle  had  taken 
his  departure  for  the  north.  But  it  did  not  intimate  that 
Miss  Dorothy  Fox  had  left  Fryston  Grange  for  Holber- 
ton  Hall,  Leeds. 

Still,  so  it  was ;  and  on  the  day  fixed  Mrs.  Hanbury  went 
to  the  Great  Northern  Railway  Station  to  see  Dorothy 
depart. 

Grace  had  observed  with  anxiety  that  there  was  a 
change  in  her  sister.  Her  spirits  had  been  uneven,  her 
gaiety  forced,  and  there  was  a  nervousness  in  her  appear- 
ance quite  foreign  to  her  nature. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  leave  thee,  Grace,"  she  said. 

"And  I,  dear,  am  sorry  to  part  with  you.  We  shall 
miss  you  dreadfully.  You  must  write  me  all  the  north- 
country  news.  And,  Dolly,  after  you  have  visited  the 
Crewdsons,  let  me  know  what  they  are  like;  and,"  she 
whispered,  laughing,  "  you  must  tell  me  whether  you  in- 
tend to  marry  Josiah  or  not." 

"  I  can  tell  thee  that  now,"  said  Dorothy,  with  a  tremor 
in  her  voice.  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind — I  cannot  like 
Josiah." 

"  Then,  my  dear  child,  why  are  you  going  to  Leeds  ?" 

But  there  was  no  time  to  answer ;  the  train  was  already 
in  motion,  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  was  out  of  sight. 

277 


278  DOROTHY   FOX 

Dorothy's  words  added  to  Grace's  perplexity.  "  I  have 
been  wrong,"  she  thought,  "  to  let  her  see  so  much  of 
Captain  Verschoyle.  But  it  never  occurred  to  me  she 
would  take  any  fancy  to  him.  Perhaps  he  may  have  seen 
the  impression  he  was  producing,  and  so  have  hurried 
his  departure.  I  am  sure  he  is  too  honourable  to  take 
any  advantage.  But  I  am  certainly  to  blame ;  I  ought 
to  have  been  more  careful.  Poor  little  Dolly !"  And  all 
the  way  home,  and  during  the  day,  Grace  was  anxiously 
thinking  thus  about  her  young  sister. 

Nor  was  she  the  only  person  whose  mind  seemed  to  be 
filled  and  possessed  with  thoughts  of  Dorothy. 

Every  day  since  his  arrival  at  Darington  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle had  gone  into  York  to  meet  the  train  by  which  he 
expected  that  Dorothy  would  come,  and  each  day  he  had 
been  disappointed.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  go  once 
more,  and  then  to  call  upon  her  aunt  and  see  if  she  had 
arrived  without  his  seeing  her.  All  the  reflections  and 
workings  of  Charles  Verschoyle's  mind  at  this  time  it 
would  be  simply  impossible  for  us  to  indicate.  Some- 
times he  told  himself  that  if  he  did  not  offer  to  marry  the 
girl  he  would  be  an  abominable  vagabond,  a  blackguard 
who  deserved  to  be  kicked  by  every  honourable  man  and 
to  be  "  cut"  by  every  honest  woman.  At  other  times  he 
said  to  himself  that  he  was  the  greatest  fool  in  the  world. 
Who  could  believe  that  the  grandson  of  an  earl,  and  an 
officer  in  a  crack  regiment,  would  give  up  everything  and 
everybody  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  country  shop- 
keeper ?  The  whole  thing  was  absurd,  and  he  must  sim- 
ply get  out  of  the  mess  in  the  best  way  he  could.  When 
Dorothy  did  not  arrive  he  worked  himself  into  a  fever, 
and  finally  made  up  his  mind  to  call  upon  Miss  Abigail 
Fletcher,  who,  to  his  surprise,  was  from  home,  "  staying 
at  Malton."    The  maid  told  him  that  she  thought  she  had 


DOROTHY   FOX  279 

heard  something  about  Miss  Dorothy  being  expected. 
Jane  would  be  sure  to  know,  only  Jane  had  a  holiday  and 
.Wouldn't  be  back  until  Monday,  So  until  Monday  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  had  to  wait,  chafing  in  fear  that  some- 
thing had  happened  which  would  prevent  him  from  see- 
ing Dorothy  again. 

To  Josiah  Crewdson  Dorothy's  visit  was  an  event  such 
as  had  never  before  occurred  in  his  lifetime.  As  he  stood 
waiting  for  the  train  he  felt  quite  sick  and  faint  from 
excitement,  oppressed  with  a  nervous  dread  that  some- 
thing unforeseen  had  detained  her.  But  in  another  min- 
ute Dorothy  arrived,  and  soon  Josiah  was  wildly  dash- 
ing against  passengers  and  porters  in  order  to  possess 
himself  of  her  luggage.  After  the  first  greetings  were 
over  Dorothy  was  silent.  Oppressed  by  the  feeling  that 
she  had  nothing  to  say,  she  excused  herself  on  the  plea 
of  being  tired,  and  Josiah,  in  his  delight  at  seeing  her, 
readily  forgave  her  taciturnity. 

Holberton  Hall  was  a  heavy-looking,  square,  stone- 
built  house.  Josiah  thought  it  had  never  before  presented 
so  dull  and  gloomy  an  appearance,  and  he  remarked,  apol- 
ogetically,— 

"  My  sisters  don't  care  for  flowers,  but  the  place  might 
be  made  much  more  cheerful-looking.  There  is  no  occa- 
sion for  my  living  here  at  all.  We  might  get  another 
house  if — thou  liked,  Dorothy." 

Dorothy  looked  in  the  opposite  direction,  "  from  coy- 
ness," as  Josiah  thought,  but  in  reality  to  prevent  him 
from  seeing  the  tears  with  which  her  eyes  were  filled. 
Her  deception  seemed  to  come  before  her  in  all  its  force, 
and  she  felt  that  she  should  be  miserable  until  she  had 
told  Josiah  the  real  state  of  her  mind. 

The  Miss  Crewdsons  came  out  to  meet  Dorothy,  and 
delivered  themselves  of  a  set  speech  of  formal  greeting. 


28o  DOROTHY   FOX 

They  seemed  to  regard  her  engagement  as  a  settled  busi- 
ness ;  so  that  Dorothy  felt  herself  to  be  an  impostor,  felt 
as  if  she  had  come  into  the  family  upon  false  pretences. 
Oh,  how  many  times  before  the  dreary  evening  came  to 
an  end  did  she  wish  that  she  had  gone  direct  from  Fry- 
ston  to  her  own  home ! 

Josiah  did  all  he  could  to  amuse  her,  making,  as  Je- 
mima afterwards  said,  a  "  complete  mountebank  of  him- 
self." But  it  was  all  to  no  purpose.  The  gloomy  house 
and  the  sombre  room  oppressed  the  girl,  and  the  two 
stern,  hard-featured  women  made  her  shy  and  timid. 
More  than  all,  the  consciousness  that  she  was  acting  de- 
ceitfully filled  her  with  misery.  She  rejoiced,  therefore, 
when  it  was  time  to  retire  to  her  own  room,  although  only 
for  the  satisfaction  of  indulging  her  grief  and  sobbing 
herself  to  sleep. 

Dorothy's  chief  perplexity  was  about  the  Miss  Crewd- 
sons.  She  felt  she  had  the  courage  to  kill  Josiah's  hopes 
and  crush  his  dearest  wish;  but  how  could  she  face  Je- 
mima and  Kezia  after  they  knew  that  she  did  not  intend 
to  marry  their  brother  ?  Yet  what  was  to  be  done  ?  She 
could  not  stay  a  week  there  deceiving  everybody.  No,  it 
would  be  better  to  have  it  over  as  soon  as  possible  and 
then  go  to  Aunt  Abigail's  at  York.  There  she  had  fixed 
her  longing  hope  of  meeting  Charles  Verschoyle  once 
more — only  once.  Dorothy  was  too  young  and  unworldly 
to  have  any  doubt  of  the  man  who  knew  that  he  had  her 
heart  in  his  keeping.  If  it  were  not  for  those  dreadful 
sisters  she  would  tell  Josiah  the  very  next  day.  But  how 
would  they  take  it?    What  might  they  not  do  to  her? 

It  was  a  pity  that  Dorothy  could  not  have  overheard 
the  opinions  which  at  that  very  time  the  sisters  were  ex- 
changing with  each  other  on  their  brother's  choice.  Her 
appearance  they  regarded  with  pious  horror.    She  was  a 


DOROTHY    FOX  281 

child,  a  baby-faced  doll ;  and  they  charitably  inferred 
that  if  she  had  any  sense,  she  took  care  that  nobody  should 
give  her  credit  for  it.  They  quoted  the  Proverbs  of  Solo- 
mon so  freely  concerning  her  that,  had  any  one  over- 
heard them,  he  would  have  felt  dubious  as  to  Dorothy's 
moral  character.  Finally  they  agreed  in  declaring  that 
they  would  not  leave  a  stone  unturned  to  prevent  the 
entrance  into  the  Crewdson  family  of  such  a  lackadaisical 
creature. 

Next  day,  when  Josiah  had  left,  Jemima  began  to  speak 
about  Dorothy's  dress.  She  said  that  they  were  surprised 
to  find  that  Dorothy  had  departed  from  that  plainness  of 
apparel  which  it  so  much  became  Friends  to  adhere  to. 
Surely  her  parents  could  not  approve  of  it.  When  Doro- 
thy said  she  had  her  parents'  sanction,  both  the  sisters 
elevated  their  eyebrows  with  an  air  of  incredulity  and 
astonishment.  With  no  little  emphasis  they  said  that 
such  vanity  would  not  be  permitted  in  their  brother's 
wife.  She  must  be  consistent,  and  wear  a  cap  and  bonnet 
suited  to  women  whose  aims  were  higher  than  the  adorn- 
ment of  a  miserable  body  which  worms  would  soon  de- 
stroy. 

Dorothy  was  silent.  Only  in  this  way  could  she  keep 
down  the  tears  which  threatened  to  come  in  a  torrent. 
At  another  time  her  spirit  would  have  been  roused  and 
she  would  have  done  battle  bravely  with  the  Miss  Crewd- 
sons  for  presuming  to  lecture  her  for  doing  what  she  had 
her  parents'  authority  to  do.  But  "  conscience  makes 
cowards  of  us  all,"  and  Dorothy  knew  that  she  was  act- 
ing wrongly.  She  felt  she  should  never  have  placed  her- 
self in  this  position.  She  could  not  defend  herself  with- 
out speakmg  of  a  decision  which,  until  Josiah  knew  it, 
she  had  no  right  to  mention  to  any  of  his  family. 

Josiah  was  to  return  at  five,  and  Dorothy  thought  that 


282^  DOROTHY   FOX 

hour  would  never  come.  About  three  the  sisters  proposed 
to  take  her  with  them  to  visit  the  sick  and  poor.  They 
said  it  was  their  day  for  ministering  to  the  wants  of  their 
district.  Dorothy,  however,  plucked  up  courage  to  re- 
fuse. This  gave  rise  to  many  remarks  on  her  want  of 
charity  and  slothfulness.  But  the  clock  warned  them  that 
unless  they  went  off  speedily  they  could  not  return  by  the 
time  Josiah  would  be  home,  and  they  left  her.  She  was 
not  long  by  herself,  for  the  thought  of  Dorothy  being  at 
home  to  welcome  him  had  given  such  impetus  to  Josiah's 
usually  slow  and  methodical  movements  that  his  business 
was  over  by  three  o'clock.  Before  another  hour  had 
elapsed  he  was  in  his  own  dining-room,  anxiously  in- 
quiring of  Dorothy  the  cause  of  her  tearful  eyes  and 
weary  looks. 

"  Indeed  it  is  nothing,"  she  answered,  with  quivering 
mouth,  for  even  his  tenderness  touched  her  now.  For  a 
moment  there  was  silence,  then  with  a  sudden  effort  she 
said, — 

"  Josiah,  I  want  to  speak  to  thee  very  seriously.  If  we 
may  be  disturbed  here,  take  me  somewhere  else." 

A  sickly  fear  crept  over  Josiah.  "  She  does  not  like 
Jemima  and  Kezia,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  and  she  is 
going  to  tell  me  that  she  cannot  marry  me." 

"  Come  into  the  garden,  Dorothy ;  there  is  a  summer- 
house  there  nobody  ever  goes  to."  On  the  way  he  said 
to  her,  "  You  mustn't  mind  sisters ;  they  have  not  ways 
like  thine.  But  then  thou  needst  not  see  them  often,  and 
I  would  take  care  they  should  never  worry  thee." 

Dorothy  did  not  answer. 

"  It  would  be  quite  different,"  he  continued.  "  Here 
they  are  the  mistresses,  and  they  feel  as  if  everything 
belonged  to  them.  But  when  they  only  came  as  visitors 
it  wouldn't  be  so,  or  if  they  were  cross  and  cranky  thou 


DOROTHY   FOX  283 

needst  not  mind  them.  Oh,  Dorothy,  don't  let  them  make 
any  difference  about  me." 

Still  she  did  not  say  a  word  until  they  reached  the 
square,  formal  summer-house,  with  the  bench  along  its 
sides  and  the  round  table  in  the  middle.  When  they 
were  seated  she  said, — 

"  Josiah,  I  am  going  to  tell  thee  something  which  will 
make  thee  think  very  poorly  of  me." 

"  No,  Dorothy,"  said  Josiah,  with  a  shake  of  his  head, 
"  nothing  can  make  me  think  poorly  of  thee." 

"  Thou  knowest,"  she  continued,  "  that  I  like  thee  very 
much  indeed.  From  the  first  time  I  saw  thee  I  thought 
thee  very  good  and  kind,  but  I "  and  here  she  paused. 

**  Do  not  love  me,"  he  said,  finishing  the  sentence.  "  I 
know  that.  I  don't  expect  it  to  come  all  at  once.  Some- 
times I  fear  that  thou  wilt  find  it  impossible,  I  am  so 
awkward  and  stupid;  but,  Dorothy,  thou  said  thou 
wouldst  try." 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  but,  Josiah" — and  she  leaned  her  arms  on 
the  table  that  she  might  cover  her  face  with  her  hands — 
"  I  cannot  even  try  now." 

There  was  silence  for  several  minutes,  and  then  Jo- 
siah said,  in  a  husky  voice,  "  I  ought  to  have  known  it. 
An  uncouth  fellow,  not  able  even  to  tell  thee  what  I  feel 
— what  else  could  I  expect  from  thee  ?" 

"  This  thou  might  have  expected,"  said  Dorothy,  look- 
ing at  him  fixedly,  "  that,  having  given  thee  and  my 
father  my  word  that  I  would  try,  I  should  have  avoided 
all  temptation  that  might  lead  me  to  break  that  word. 
When  I  felt  that  I  could  never  do  as  thou  wished,  I 
should  have  told  thee,  and  not  acted  deceitfully  by  coming 
here  among  thee  and  thy  relations." 

*'  Are  sisters  making  thee  decide  thus  ?  Thou  hadst 
not  made  up  thy  mind  before  thou  came  here?'-' 


284  DOROTHY    FOX 

"Yes,  I  had." 

Josiah's  face  seemed  to  become  suddenly  sharp  and 
old.  Taking  hold  of  her  arm  in  his  newly  awakened 
fear,  he  said,  "  Dorothy ! — Dorothy !  it  isn't  somebody 
else?" 

She  gave  him  no  answer. 

"  Oh !"  he  groaned,  resting  his  face  upon  the  table, 
"  I  didn't  think  of  that,  I  didn't  think  of  that." 

"  Josiah,  don't  give  way  like  that,"  exclaimed  Dorothy, 
surprised  and  alarmed  at  the  sight  of  his  misery.  "  Oh, 
what  shall  I  do?"  she  continued,  as  her  tears  fell  thick 
and  fast  upon  his  hands. 

Josiah  immediately  tried  to  recover  himself.  "  I  shall 
be  all  right  in  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  Thou  must  not  mind 
me — only  it  came  on  me  so  sudden." 

"Josiah,  if  I  could  only  tell  thee  how  sorry  I  am  to 
grieve  thee!  I — I  thought  it  would  disappoint  thee,  but 
I  did  not  know  it  would  pain  thee  like  this." 

"Didst  thou  not?"  he  said,  trying  to  smile.  "Ah,  I 
have  been  a  sad  bungler,  Dorothy.  My  love  for  thee 
made  me  dumb  when  I  most  wanted  to  speak  to  thee. 
Does  thy  father  know  of  this  ?" 

"Father!    Oh,  no!" 

"  But  thou  wilt  tell  him  soon?" 

Dorothy  looked  down  as  she  answered,  slowly,  "  I  do 
not  think  I  shall.  I — I — do — not  intend  to  marry  any- 
body else." 

"  Not — marry — any  one — else,"  repeated  Josiah,  in 
amazement.  "  Then  have  I  misunderstood  thee  ?  Thou 
wouldst  not  willingly  give  me  pain,  I  know ;  but  please, 
Dorothy,  tell  me  the  truth  at  once.  Dost  thou  love  some 
one,  not  only  better  than  me,  but  so  well  as  to  prevent 
thee  from  ever  becoming  my  wife?" 

Dorothy  hesitated,  but  seeing  his  anxious  face,  she 


DOROTHY   FOX  285 

answered,  "  Yes ;  but,  Josiah,  oh,  do  listen !  It  is  some 
one  whom  my  principles  forbid  me  to  marry.  I  may 
never  see  him  again,  and  if  I  do,  I  shall  part  with  him 
forever;"  and  at  the  thought  Dorothy's  firmness  gave 
way  and  she  sobbed  aloud, 

Josiah  did  not  ask  the  name  of  his  rival,  but  he  rightly 
guessed  who  he  was.  Forgetting  his  own  troubles,  how- 
ever, he  now  tried  to  soothe  and  comfort  Dorothy, 
Thinking  that  she  would  feel  more  happy  away  from  his 
family,  he  suggested,  and  she  agreed,  that  it  would  be 
better  for  her  to  go  to  Aunt  Abigail  as  soon  as  she 
could.  Not  the  next  day,  perhaps,  because  Aunt  Abigail 
was  still  at  Malton,  but  the  day  after.  Her  aunt  would 
then  be  at  home  and  aware  of  her  movements.  Jemima 
and  Kezia  were  to  be  told  nothing  until  after  Dorothy's 
departure,  so  that  they  might  not  tease  and  worry  her 
with  their  cutting  remarks. 

It  was  now  considerably  past  five  o'clock,  and  they 
prepared  to  return  to  the  house. 

"  Josiah,  say  that  thou  forgivest  me,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

"  And  that  thou  wilt  try  to  forget  me  ?" 

"  Never ;  I  shall  always  love  thee,  Dorothy.  Thou 
wouldst  not  wish  to  deprive  me  of  that  comfort?" 

"  No,"  said  Dorothy ;  and  she  felt,  for  the  first  time, 
that  if  she  had  never  seen  Charles  Verschoyle,  it  would 
not  have  been  quite  impossible  for  her  to  have  cared  for 
Josiah  Crewdson. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

KEZIA   PLAYS   THE   SPY 

Notwithstanding  all  that  Dorothy  had  said  to  Jo- 
siah  at  their  recent  interview,  he  felt  it  impossible  for 
him  to  abandon  all  hope.  Might  she  not  yet  overcome 
this  fancy  which  was  never  to  be  gratified,  and  then  after 
a  time  get  to  like  him  ?  She  had  been  so  kind  and  gentle 
to  him  since  their  meeting  in  the  summer-house  that  such 
a  supposition  did  not  seem  to  be  entirely  chimerical. 

Aunt  Abigail  had  written  to  say  that  she  would  ex- 
pect her  niece  on  the  day  mentioned,  and  the  day  had 
now  arrived.  Josiah,  to  save  Dorothy  annoyance,  had 
offered  to  tell  his  sisters  that  she  wanted  to  return  home 
sooner  than  she  had  at  first  intended,  and,  wishing  to 
spend  as  much  time  as  possible  with  her  aunt,  she  thought 
it  best  to  shorten  her  visit  to  them. 

"  Oh,  certainly ;  by  all  means,"  said  Jemima ;  "  as  she 
did  not  come  here  on  our  account,  we  have  no  wish  to 
detain  her,  although  it  is  paying  thee  a  very  poor  com- 
pliment, Josiah." 

"  It  is  quite  what  I  expected,"  said  Kezia,  with  the 
smile  of  infallible  intuition.  "  Ours  is  no  house  for  the 
frivolous  and  worldly;  it  is  a  pity  that  Dorothy  came 
here  at  all." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  replied  Josiah,  feeling  himself 
getting  more  angry  than  he  cared  to  show  them.  "  Thou 
and  Jemima  seem  to  forget  how  young  Dorothy  is.  As 
to  her  being  frivolous  and  worldly,  she  is  nothing  of 
the  kind;  she  is  cheerful  and  gay,  as  a  girl  should  be. 
286 


DOROTHY   FOX  287 

When  she  is  as  old  as  either  of  you  she  will  be  sedate 
enough." 

Now,  few  women  can  bear  to  be  told  they  are  old  in 
comparison  with  other  women  whom  they  know  to  be 
young.  They  may  own  their  age,  even  boast  of  it,  but 
they  never  care  about  being  reminded  of  it  by  other  peo- 
ple. Therefore,  though  the  Miss  Crewdsons  were  quite 
innocent  of  trying  to  make  themselves  more  juvenile  than 
they  really  were,  Josiah  could  not  have  cut  his  sisters 
more  surely,  or  raised  their  indignation  more  speedily, 
than  he  did  by  this  taunt,  which  was  all  the  worse  to 
bear  as  each  of  them  would  have  died  before  she  would 
have  acknowledged  her  annoyance. 

"  The  train  leaves  at  2.40,"  added  Josiah,  "  and  I  will 
meet  Dorothy  at  the  station.  I  must  see  Stephenson 
this  morning,  so  I  shall  walk  into  Leeds,  and  Dorothy 
can  have  the  carriage." 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Jemima ;  "  hast  thou  any  fur- 
ther orders  to  leave?  for  I  suppose  it  has  come  to  thy 
considering  it  to  be  our  place  to  obey  thee." 

"  Nonsense,  Jemima,  don't  take  such  fancies,"  said 
Josiah,  fearing  that  unless  he  tried  to  mollify  them  a 
little  his  sisters  might  vent  their  vexation  on  Dorothy. 
"  She  cannot  walk,  and  I  thought  it  would  save  a  cab." 

Waiting  for  no  further  argument,  Josiah  went  out 
through  the  back  way  into  the  garden,  at  the  end  of 
which,  according  to  appointment,  he  met  Dorothy. 

"Hast  thou  told  them?  What  did  they  say?"  she 
asked,  excitedly. 

"  Nothing ;  but  I  see  they  are  a  little  vexed ;  so  if  they 
speak  somewhat  sharply,  thou  must  not  mind  it.  They 
do  not  mean  ill." 

"Thou  only  saidst  that  I  was  going?"  said  Dorothy, 
timidly. 


288  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Yes,  that  was  all.  Need  I  say  more  at  present,  Dorc>- 
thy?  Perhaps  some  day  thou  mayest  get  to  like  me  a 
little;  that  is,  if  thou  art  sure  that  thou  dost  not  intend 
marrying  the — the  other  one,"  he  blurted  out. 

Dorothy  shook  her  head.  "  I  will  not  deceive  thee 
again ;  and  thou  wouldst  not  wish  to  marry  me  if  I  had 
no  love  for  thee,  Josiah." 

"  No ;  only  sometimes,  after  many  years  perhaps,  when 
people  don't  meet  they  forget  their  love." 

"  But  not  what  love  is  like,"  she  said,  sadly. 

"  Dorothy,  forgive  me — only  one  more  question.  Art 
thou  quite  sure  thou  hast  no  intention  to  marry  him?" 

"  Quite  sure." 

"And  dost  thou  think  thy  strength  is  sufficient  for 
thee  to  say  No  ?" 

"  I  think  strength  will  be  given  to  me,"  she  answered, 
"  for  I  am  trying  very  hard  to  do  my  duty," 

Josiah  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  looking  at 
her,  his  honest,  every-day  face  lit  up  by  love,  he  said, 
"  God  bless  and  help  thee,  Dorothy !"  and  Dorothy's  voice 
failing,  she  tightened  her  grasp  and  tried  to  smile  on 
him  through  her  tears. 

Twelve  o'clock  had  struck,  and  still  the  Miss  Crewd- 
sons  sat  puzzling  over  and  speculating  about  the  cause 
of  this  sudden  departure.  They  were  certain  that  there 
was  something  more  in  it  than  met  the  eye ;  but  what  that 
something  could  be  they  failed  to  discover.  Dorothy  had 
been  in  and  out  several  times  during  the  morning,  but 
meeting  with  no  other  response  to  her  remarks  than 
"  Yes"  or  "  No,"  she  had  betaken  herself  to  her  own 
room,  where  she  was  sitting  lonely  and  dispirited. 

For  the  twentieth  time  had  Kezia  asked  Jemima, 
"  What  can  it  be  ?"  For  the  twentieth  time  she  had  re- 
ceived from  her  sister  the  answer  that  time  would  show. 


DOROTHY   FOX  289 

when  a  loud  peal  at  the  bell  startled  them  both.  Before 
they  had  run  through  their  category  of  probable  visitors 
the  maid  opened  the  door,  walked  up  to  Jemima,  and  put 
a  card  into  her  hand,  saying,  "  He's  asked  for  Dorothy 
Fox,  and,  please,  he's  waiting."  Jemima  looked  at  the 
card  and  read  aloud,  "  Captain  Charles  Egerton  Ver- 
schoyle,  17th  Lancers." 

Jemima  Crewdson  boasted  that  she  was  "  never  taken 
aback."  Seldom  had  she  had  greater  reason  to  pride  her- 
self on  this  than  when,  without  any  exclamation  or  com- 
ment, she  said,  "  Take  this  to  her  and  tell  her  that  he  is 
waiting  to  see  her." 

The  girl  took  the  card  to  Dorothy,  who  breathlessly 
demanded  where  the  visitor  was  and  whether  any  one  was 
with  him.  Concluding  from  Dorothy's  excitement  that 
the  good-looking  youHg  man  was  her  real  sweetheart, 
and  not  being  devoted  to  the  house  of  Crewdson,  the 
servant  smiled  grimly  as  she  descended  the  stairs,  saying, 
"  And  I  for  one  shouldn't  be  sorry,  neither." 

How  Dorothy  managed  to  fly  down-stairs,  pass  the 
dining-room  door,  and  get  into  the  room  where  Charles 
Verschoyle  stood  waiting  for  her  she  did  not  know;  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  one  minute  she  was  reading  his  name 
and  the  next  that  she  was  sobbing  sweet  and  bitter  tears  in 
his  arms.  The  joy  she  felt  at  seeing  the  man  whom  she 
now  knew  to  be  far  dearer  to  her  than  she  had  hitherto 
dreamt  of,  the  conflicts  she  had  gone  through  for  his 
sake,  and  the  misery  she  had  endured  for  the  last  few 
weeks  broke  down  all  her  firm  resolutions,  and  drove 
from  her  mind  everything  but  the  glad  thought  that  "  he" 
was  with  her,  and  nothing  now  could  harm  her. 

Captain  Verschoyle  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  this  outburst.  He  only  saw  that  something 
had  gone  wrong  and  distressed  "  his  darling,"  as  he  now; 

19 


290  DOROTHY   FOX 

called  her,  and  that  the  sight  of  her  in  tears  made  him 
feel  more  pitiful  and  tender  than  the  griefs  of  all  the 
women  he  had  ever  known  before.  He  soothed  and 
caressed  her,  and  called  her  every  endearing  name  which 
falls  so  sweetly  from  the  mouth  of  a  lover,  until  Dorothy's 
tears  ceased  falling,  and  she  began  to  awaken  to  the  reali- 
ties of  her  position. 

"  How  didst  thou  know  that  I  was  here  ?"  she  asked. 
"  They  will  be  so  angry.  Oh,  thou  oughtst  not  to  have 
come." 

"  Why  not  ?  And  who  are  they  who  will  be  angry  ?" 
he  said.    "  Are  these  people  your  relations  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  then,  there  can  be  nothing  so  very  extraordi- 
nary in  my  calling  to  see  you.  Say  I  am  a  friend  of  your 
sister's,  and  wanted  to  know  if  you  had  any  message  to 
send  to  her;  that  I  went  to  your  aunt's,  and  not  finding 
you  I  came  here.    No  one  could  be  angry  about  that." 

"  But  thou  art  a  soldier,"  said  Dorothy,  shaking  her 
head  in  dissent  to  his  arguments. 

"  Suppose  I  am,  I  am  not  going  to  fight  them ;  but  tell 
me,  dear,  why  were  you  so  distressed  at  seeing  me  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  been  so  miserable  of  late." 

Feeling  that  he  was  probably  the  cause  of  her  misery, 
Captain  Verschoyle  should  have  looked  less  pleased  as  he 
put  his  arm  again  round  her  and  tried  to  draw  her  to- 
wards him.  But  Dorothy  had  recovered  herself,  so  she 
turned  from  him  and  sat  down  in  a  chair,  while  he  stood 
looking  at  her.  "  I  have  been  so  unhappy,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  because  I  ought  never  to  have  spoken  as  I  did 
to  thee  in  the  garden." 

"Why  not?"  he  exclaimed,  hurriedly.  "Was  it  not 
true?  Dorothy,  tell  me,  do  you  love  me ?"  He  was  kneel- 
ing by  her  side,  with  his  face  close  to  hers,  so  that  she 


•Oh,   thou  oughtst  not  to  have  come' 


DOROTHY   FOX  291 

looked  into  his  eyes  with  her  own  full  of  truth  and 
love. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  I  love  thee  with  all  my  heart ; 
but  I  ought  never  to  have  shown  it  to  thee." 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  I  knew  it  was  wrong.  When  I  began  to 
think  so  much  of  thee  I  ought  to  have  gone  home." 

"  Oh !   don't  say  that,  darling." 

Matters  were  beginning  to  look  a  little  brighter  now, 
and  Captain  Verschoyle  almost  smiled  as  he  remembered 
the  sharp  pain  he  felt  when  he  thought  Dorothy  was 
going  to  say  she  did  not  care  for  him. 

"  But  it  is  true,"  she  continued ;  "  all  this  time  I  have 
been  disobeying  father  and  deceiving  Josiah  Crewdson." 

"  Josiah  Crewdson !    What  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?" 

Dorothy  looked  down  abashed.  "  Josiah  wanted  me  to 
marry  him,  and  I  promised  father  I  would  try  to  like  him, 
and  I  told  Josiah  the  same,  and  now " 

"Well?" 

"  Of  course,  I  cannot." 

Captain  Verschoyle  was  silent ;  not  because  he  did  not 
love  the  girl,  but  he  was  suspicious — and  not  without 
cause,  for  the  world  had  taught  him  two  or  three  rather 
bitter  lessons.  Was  she  trying  to  entangle  him  into 
making  her  an  offer  of  marriage?  Perhaps  her  sister 
had  prompted  her  to  do  it.  Well,  if  she  had  told  the 
Hanburys,  there  was  no  backing  out  of  it ;  and,  after  all, 
he  should  have  to  marry  a  shopkeeper's  daughter.  So 
he  said,  very  coldly,  "  Why  ?  Is  it  your  intention  to 
marry  some  one  else?" 

Dorothy  looked  up ;  his  voice  grated  upon  her  ear,  but 
in  a  moment  she  dismissed  the  suspicion.  Her  love  told 
her,  knowing  as  she  did  that  they  could  not  marry,  what 
his  pain  must  be.    Her  heart  seemed  to  give  a  g^eat  surge. 


292  DOROTHY   FOX 

and,  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  she  hid  her  face  and 
cried,  "  Oh,  Charles,  if  thou  hadst  been  the  poorest  man 
in  all  the  world  I  would  never  have  ceased  to  entreat 
father;  but  I  know  if  I  disobeyed  him  and  forsook  my 
principles  we  could  expect  no  blessing  and  no  happiness." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  child  ?"  exclaimed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle,  puzzled  by  Dorothy's  words,  certain  of  her  love, 
however,  and  at  rest  regarding  her  duplicity.  "  You  say 
you  will  not  marry  this  Crewdson,  but  surely  if  I  ask 
your  father  for  you,  you  will  marry  me  ?" 

"  No.  Thou  art  a  soldier,  and  for  that  reason  father 
would  never  give  his  consent.  It  would  be  against  our 
principles,  and  though  I  feel  that,  were  I  called  upon,  I 
could  willingly  die  for  thee,  I  could  not  disobey  my 
parents  when  I  know  they  are  acting  rightly." 

"  Such  love  as  this  is  not  worth  having,"  he  said,  push- 
ing her  from  him.  "  I  am  offering  for  your  sake" — and 
'he  thought  he  was  speaking  the  truth — "  to  give  up  my 
friends,  position,  and  all  hope  of  advancement  in  life; 
and  you  tell  me  that  you  love  me  very  much,  but  if  your 
father  says  '  No,'  you  could  not  think  of  disobeying  him. 
Do  you  suppose  that  I  expect  my  mother  ever  to  give  her 
consent?  Very  likely  neither  she  nor  my  sister  would 
ever  speak  to  me  again.  But  if  I  had  determined  to 
marry  you  I  would  not  be  deterred  though  every  relation 
I  have  turned  their  backs  upon  me." 

"  But  /  feel  that  God's  face  would  be  turned  from  me." 

Captain  Verschoyle  gave  an  impatient  shrug.  "  I  know 
nothing  of  such  bigotry,"  he  said,  contemptuously.  "  If 
you  think  me  such  a  Pariah,  why  did  you  lead  me  to  sup- 
pose that  you  cared  for  me  ?" 

Dorothy  sat  with  her  face  in  her  hands  rocking  her- 
self to  and  fro  in  hopeless  misery,  such  a  picture  of  heart- 
broken despair  that  all  Charles  Verschoyle's  anger  gave 


DOROTHY    FOX  293 

way,  and,  kneeling  down  before  her,  he  said,  "  Dorothy, 
my  own,  my  darling,  don't  listen  to  me.  I  am  a  brute  to 
say  such  things,  but  I  did  not  know  how  I  loved  you; 
look  at  me,  dear.  I'll  give  up  everything  in  the  world  for 
you.  I'll  sell  out,  and  we'll  go  and  live  in  the  country. 
That's  right,  smile  at  me  again,  dearest.  I'll  turn 
Quaker,  and  then  my  Dolly  won't  say  '  No.'    Will  she?" 

But  Dorothy  had  no  power  then  to  reply,  and  when 
she  had.  Captain  Verschoyle  jumped  up  suddenly,  ex- 
claiming, "  Confound  that  woman !"  and,  walking  to  the 
window,  called  out,  "  Do  you  wish  to  come  in  this  way, 
madam  ?" 

To  Dorothy's  unspeakable  horror,  the  figure  which 
turned  away  was  Kezia  Crewdson. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

LOVING   AND   LOSING 

When  young  Love  has  been  suddenly  put  to  flight, 
he  is  very  shy  of  settling  down  again.  Therefore,  al- 
though it  was  nearly  half  an  hour  before  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle  left  Holberton  Hall,  the  interval  was  taken  up  by 
a  comparatively  sober  and  business-like  conversation. 

Dorothy  was  in  a  great  state  of  trepidation  about  Kezia 
Crewdson.  Captain  Verschoyle  declared,  however,  that 
she  could  not  have  been  at  the  window  two  minutes 
before  he  saw  her,  although,  had  she  stood  for  two  hours, 
he  said,  she  could  not  have  seen  them.  He  said  this,  not 
really  believing  it,  being  certain  that  Miss  Crewdson's 
curiosity  had  been  gratified  by  a  very  romantic  tableau. 
But  then,  it  was  not  likely  she  would  say  anything  about 
it,  as  that  would  be  telling  upon  herself.  However,  the 
thing  was  done,  and  they  must  make  the  best  of  it,  and 
carry  it  off  as  circumstances  demanded. 

He  was  delighted  to  hear  that  Dorothy  was  leaving  for 
York;  and  began  to  speculate  if  they  could  not  travel 
in  the  same  carriage. 

"  Josiah  is  going  with  me  to  the  station,  and  Aunt  Abi- 
gail will  meet  me  at  York,"  said  Dorothy. 

"  Oh,  that  is  just  the  thing.  I  want  to  be  introduced  to 
your  aunt,  so  that  I  can  call  and  see  you.  You  want  to 
see  me  again  soon,  Dorothy,  do  you  not?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  we  shall  meet  at  the  station.  I  shall  look 
Out  for  you.  Two-forty  you  said?  All  right,  and  don't 
294 


DOROTHY   FOX  295 

fidget  about  that  old  Tabbyskins,  dear;    whatever  she 
accuses  you  of,  deny  it." 

"  Oh,  Charles !  but  I  could  not." 

"  Oh,  Dolly !  yes,  you  could,"  he  whispered,  laughing 
at  her  grave  face.  Then  giving  her  a  most  courteous 
bow  in  case  they  should  be  watched,  he  walked  away,  and 
Dorothy  shut  the  door,  her  heart  sinking  with  every  re- 
treating step  he  took. 

Try  as  she  would,  she  could  not  persuade  herself  that 
Kezia  had  not  seen  them.  If  she  had — all  Dorothy's 
senses  seemed  to  forsake  her  at  the  thought.  What  might 
she  not  do  ?  Write  to  her  father  perhaps ;  and  then — she 
should  die  of  shame.  While  she  was  striving  to  convince 
herself  that  they  had  been  unseen,  Ann  came  to  announce 
that  luncheon  was  ready.  Dorothy,  unable  to  look  at  any 
one,  and  feeling  it  required  all  her  resolution  to  keep  her 
teeth  from  chattering,  found  herself  in  the  dining-room 
before  the  sisters,  who,  by  practising  the  feminine  habit 
of  ignoring  an  offender,  and  finding  an  immense  deal  to 
say  to  each  other,  gave  Dorothy  time  to  recover  herself. 
She  felt  it  was  needful  for  her  to  say  something  about  a 
visit  to  her  in  a  house  where  they  were  mistresses  and 
she  was  a  guest.  So,  when  she  was  able  to  command  her 
voice  sufficiently,  she  took  an  opportunity  of  saying,  "  It 
was  Charles  Verschoyle  who  came  here  this  morning; 
mother  knows  him,  and  he  is  a  friend  of  Grace's." 

"  So  I  should  think,"  replied  Jemima,  but  without  more 
sharpness  in  her  voice  than  usual. 

"  He  had  been  to  Aunt  Abigail's,  and  they  told  him  I 
was  here,"  Dorothy  went  on  to  say.  "  He  is  going  back 
to  London  soon,  and  will  tell  Grace  he  has  seen  me." 

"  It  was  very  fortunate  that  thou  hadst  not  gone,"  said 
Kezia ;  "  but  perhaps  he  knew  the  hour  when  thou  wert 
going.    I  suppose  thou  expected  him?" 


296  DOROTHY    FOX 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  and  Dorothy  found  courage  to  look 
up  and  meet  Kezia's  eyes.  They  looked  at  her  as  they 
usually  did;  there  was  no  terrible  light  in  them  as  if 
they  had  witnessed  an  awful  secret,  which  would  soon  be 
communicated  to  all  whom  it  might  and  might  not  con- 
cern. Indeed,  Kezia  was  particularly  gracious  in  press- 
ing her  to  eat  more,  fearing  that  she  had  lost  her  appetite, 
and  reminding  her  that  she  had  a  journey  before  her.  So 
Dorothy  drew  breath,  and  began  to  think  that  Charles 
Verschoyle  was  right,  and  that  Kezia  had  seen  nothing. 
So  great  a  calamity  being  averted  caused  her  spirits  to 
rise  at  once,  and  she  left  Holberton  Hall  smiling  and 
gracious,  and  thanking  the  sisters  for  the  kindness  they 
had  shown  to  her. 

Josiah  was  at  the  station  waiting  for  her,  smiling  that 
she  might  see  no  trace  of  his  flagging  spirits  and  heavy 
heart.  They  were. in  good  time,  but  Josiah  was  restless, 
and  kept  going  backward  and  forward  to  see  if  the  lug- 
gage was  labelled,  or  if  the  ticket-office  was  open.  Doro- 
thy wished  he  would  sit  quiet  for  a  few  minutes,  as  she 
wanted  to  tell  him  that  Charles  Verschoyle  had  been  to 
see  her.  But  whenever  she  was  about  to  begin  Josiah 
started  off;  and  now,  unless  she  made  haste,  she  feared 
the  subject  of  her  communication  would  arrive  before  she 
could  announce  his  advent. 

When  Josiah  sat  down  again,.  Dorothy  said,  quickly, 
*'  I  had  a  visitor  this  morning ;  Charles  Verschoyle  came 
to  see  me." 

Josiah  only  grasped  his  umbrella  tighter,  and  answered, 
"Oh!  did  he?" 

Then  there  was  a  pause  until  he  was  sufficiently  calm 
to  ask,  "  Are  you  going  to  see  him  again  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  said  he  was  going  to  York  by  this  train,  and 
he  would  see  me  at  the  station." 


DOROTHY   FOX  297. 

Here  Josiali  jumped  up  in  a  great  hurry,  saying  he  was 
quite  sure  the  ticket-office  must  be  open  by  this  time; 
and  without  another  word  he  went  off.  When  he  re- 
turned, some  five  or  six  minutes  later,  he  found  that 
Captain  Verschoyle  had  joined  Dorothy,  and  was  carry- 
ing on  a  most  animated  conversation  with  her. 

The  captain  condescended  to  remember  that  he  had  met 
Mr.  Crewdson  before,  and  to  bestow  on  him  a  formal 
shake  of  the  hand.  He  then  announced  that,  thinking 
Miss  Fox  might  have  some  parcel  or  message  for  Mrs. 
Hanbury,  he  had  taken  the  liberty  of  calling  upon  her 
at  Holberton  Hall.  To  which  Josiah  replied,  "  Thank 
thee."  Why  he  should  be  thankful  he  did  not  know, 
however,  for  never  had  he  felt  greater  animosity  to- 
wards any  one  than  towards  this  man,  whose  soldier- 
like appearance,  handsome  face,  and  easy  manner  made 
him  feel  his  own  defects  a  hundred-fold  more  keenly 
than  ever. 

"  I  think  we  may  as  well  take  our  seats.  Miss  Fox," 
said  Captain  Verschoyle,  relieving  Dorothy  of  her  cloak 
and  travelling-bag.  Josiah,  thus  excluded,  walked  after 
them  up  the  platform,  watched  Captain  Verschoyle  make 
all  the  arrangements  for  Dorothy's  comfort,  and  then 
stood  uncomfortable  and  ill  at  ease  at  the  carriage  door. 
Here  he  was  rather  unceremoniously  pushed  aside  by  an 
old  gentleman,  who  jumped  in  in  a  great  hurry,  and,  re- 
gardless of  the  cloak  and  umbrellas  ostentatiously  spread 
out  to  guard  it,  took  the  seat  opposite  Dorothy,  shut  the 
door,  and  then  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  said,  "  Ah ! 
how  d'ye  do,  Crewdson?  This  young  lady  a  friend  of 
yours  ?  Going  to  York  ?  Very  wrong  to  send  her  alone 
— might  meet  some  impertinent  fellow  on  the  way.  I'll 
take  care  of  her.    Introduce  me." 

Josiah,  taken  aback  by  this  unusual  familiarity  in  a 


298  DOROTHY   FOX 

bowing  acquaintance,  stammered  out,  "  Thou  art  very 
good.    Dorothy  Fox " 

"  Oh!"  said  the  old  gentleman,  interrupting  him.  Then 
taking  off  his  hat,  he  repeated,  "  Dorothy  Fox,  and  my 
name,  for  our  journey  entirely  at  your  service,  is  Harry 
Egerton.  Now,  Miss  Fox,  society  permits  us  after  this 
to  be  as  polite  or  as  rude  as  we  please  to  each  other." 

"  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  rude,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
such  is  thy  intention,"  said  Dorothy,  laughing. 

"  You  are  ignoring  me  altogether,  sir,"  said  Captain 
iVerschoyle,  touching  him  on  the  arm. 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  answered  the  old  man,  gruffly,  turning 
round ;  "  but  I've  seen  you  before  this  morning ;  I  came 
up  in  the  same  train  with  you."  Though  he  intended  to 
be  very  severe,  at  sight  of  the  expression  on  his  godson's 
face  Mr.  Egerton  could  not  refrain  from  winking  his  eye. 

"  Thou  wilt  let  us  know  of  thy  safe  arrival,  Dorothy  ? 
and  perhaps  while  thou  art  at  thy  aunt's  I  shall  be  at 
York  on  business,  and  come  and  see  thee,"  said  Josiah. 

"  Oh !  yes,  do,"  said  Dorothy.  Then  seeing  a  frown  on 
Captain  Verschoyle's  face,  she  added,  "  that  is,  if  I  am 
there ;  but  I  shall  not  stay  long.  Farewell,  Josiah !  Do 
be  careful ;  don't  stand  on  the  step — the  train  is  moving, 
thou  might  be  thrown  down." 

As  the  train  went  off,  Josiah,  in  the  bitterness  of  his 
heart,  wished  he  had  been  thrown  down,  and  that  it  had 
gone  over  him.  In  spite  of  what  he  told  Dorothy  about 
being  glad  they  had  met  even  if  she  could  never  care  for 
him,  he  asked  himself  now  why  he  had  ever  seen  her, 
if  seeing  her  was  only  to  make  him  hopeless  and  wretched. 
Had  his  father  only  brought  him  up  differently — taught 
him  to  say  what  he  thought  like  other  men — made  him 
feel  certain  that  the  thing  he  was  doing  was  the  right 
thing  to  do,  matters  might  have  been  different.     But 


DOROTHY   FOX  299 

what  chance  had  he  with  a  man  Hke  Charles  Verschoyle? 
None.  TelHng  his  clerks  that  he  was  particularly  en- 
gaged and  could  see  no  one,  Josiah  went  into  his  office, 
flung  himself  down  upon  his  chair,  and  declared  to  him- 
self that  he  did  not  care  what  became  of  him. 

In  the  mean  time  his  sisters  were  anxiously  awaiting  his 
return,  full  of  the  importance  of  the  awful  disclosure 
which  Kezia  had  to  make.  She  had  no  intention  of 
prefacing  her  revelation  with,  "  Happening  to  be  passing 
the  window,"  or,  "  Not  having  an  idea  that  any  one  was 
in  the  room."  No,  Miss  Crewdson  gave  her  unvarnished 
testimony  to  the  truth.  Considering  it  was  her  duty  to 
know  what  her  brother's  future  wife  could  have  to  do 
with  a  man  belonging  to  a  profession  abominable  in  the 
sight  of  a  peace-loving  community,  she  had  walked  into 
the  garden,  and  stood  at  the  window  of  the  room,  looking 
at  them  until  she  had  attracted  their  attention.  If  what 
had  passed  before  her  eyes  did  not  stagger  Josiah  and 
make  the  scales  which  blinded  him  fall  from  his  eyes,  the 
sisters  considered  it  would  be  their  duty  to  lay  the  matter 
before  the  Society.  And  here  they  were  only  acting  ac- 
cording to  what  their  consciences  dictated.  No  malice 
or  dislike  to  Dorothy  in  any  way  impelled  them.  For 
had  she  been  entirely  "  after  their  own  hearts,"  the  last 
few  hours  would  have  lowered  her  so  much  in  their  esti- 
mation as  to  make  them  think  her  unworthy  to  be  the 
wife  of  any  man  bearing  an  honest  name. 

Josiah  at  length  arrived,  hot  and  breathless,  having 
walked  very  quickly,  to  prevent  his  being  more  than  half 
an  hour  late  for  dinner.  He  expected  to  be  met  with 
black  looks  and  angry  faces;  instead  of  which,  Kezia 
only  remarked  that  he  looked  very  warm,  and  Jemima 
reproached  him  mildly  for  hurrying  when  there  was  no 
occasion  to  do  so. 


300  DOROTHY   FOX 

Had  Josiah  been  quick-witted  and  sharp,  he  would  have 
been  certain  that  something  was  about  to  happen.  The 
sisters  had  agreed  that  he  should  have  his  dinner  in  peace ; 
and  during  the  meal  they  made  themselves  so  unusually 
pleasant  and  agreeable,  that  even  Josiah  wondered  what 
could  be  the  reason  of  this  sudden  change.  "  I  daresay," 
thought  he,  "  they  want  to  show  me  how  glad  they  are 
that  she  is  gone;"  and  he  heaved  a  sigh  so  deep  that 
Jemima  remarked,  "  One  would  think  that  thy  mind  was 
ill  at  ease,  Josiah." 

Josiah  denied  the  assertion  most  emphatically ;  where- 
upon Kezia  exclaimed,  mournfully,  that  she  wished  his 
sisters  could  say  the  same;  but  it  was  best  to  prepare 
himself,  for  they  had  a  blow  in  store  for  him,  a  blow 
dealt  him  by  a  human  hand,  and  a  hand  too  that  they  had 
once  thought  to  see  joined  with  his  own.  Josiah  being 
somewhat  obtuse  as  to  metaphorical  allusions,  did  not 
grasp  Kezia's  meaning,  and  sat  silently  staring  first  at 
one  and  then  at  the  other,  hoping  to  get  some  explanation. 
Jemima,  who  was  in  all  her  dealings  essentially  practical, 
said, — 

"  Kezia,  Josiah  doth  not  understand  thee ;  thou  hadst 
best  be  plain  with  him,  and  in  as  few  words  as  possible 
tell  him  what  thou  hast  discovered." 

So  urged,  Kezia  commenced,  and  soon  the  plain  truth 
was  made  known  to  Josiah,  who  listened  with  an  un- 
moved countenance. 

"  Thou  art  quite  positive  that  thou  saw  all  this  ?  Thou 
fancied  nothing?"  he  said. 

Kezia  allowed  this  imputation  on  her  veracity  to  pass 
unnoticed.  She  merely  restated  that  she  stood  looking  in 
at  the  window  until  the  man  walked  up  to  her  and  asked 
if  she  wanted  to  come  in. 

"  And  did  Dorothy  know  that  it  was  thou  ?" 


DOROTHY    FOX  301 

"  Certainly  she  did." 

"  And  she  made  no  remark  upon  it  afterwards  ?" 

"  No." 

Josiah  relapsed  into  silence  until  Jemima  could  bear  it 
no  longer ;  so  she  said,  rather  sharply,  "  Thou  are  taking 
it  very  coolly,  Josiah." 

"Ami?    What  am  I  to  do?" 

"What  art  thou  to  do?"  she  echoed;  "I  think  if  I 
were  a  man  I  should  not  require  to  be  told  what  /  should 
do,  when  the  woman  engaged  to  be  my  wife  had  been 
seen — in  the  arms  of  another;"  and  Miss  Crewdson  felt 
as  if  her  maidenly  estate  had  been  offended  by  naming 
such  a  situation. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Josiah,  slowly,  "  but  Dorothy  Fox 
is  not,  and  never  was,  engaged  to  be  my  wife.  I  have 
nothing,  therefore,  to  say  about  it,  and,  of  course,  neither 
of  you  will  ever  speak  of  it  to  any  one." 

"  Dear  Josiah !"  exclaimed  both  the  Miss  Crewdsons 
in  a  breath,  "  thou  hast  taken  a  load  off  our  minds." 

"  I  always  thought,"  said  Kezia,  "  that  our  brother  had 
more  sense  than  to  marry  Dorothy  Fox.  She  is  a  bad, 
forward  girl,  Josiah,  and  mark  my  words " 

But  at  the  moment  it  seemed  much  more  likely  that  he 
would  mark  her  body,  for  jumping  up  suddenly  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Hold  thy  tongue,  she  is  nothing  of  the  sort ; 
though  she  will  not  marry  me,  I  love  her  better  than 
anybody  in  the  world,  and  I  won't  let  any  one  speak 
against  her." 

Now,  how  is  it  that  men  will  make  such  fatal  blunders  ? 
In  one  moment  Josiah  had  undone  all  that  he  most  desired 
to  compass.  His  two  sisters  would  not  have  spoken  had 
he  said  nothing;  but  now — nothing  would  prevent  them 
"  letting  justice  have  its  course."  Jemima  therefore  said, 
coldly,  "  Kezia,  I  do  not  know  that  thou  and  I  are  called 


302  DOROTHY   FOX 

upon  to  listen  to  the  vain  ravings  of  a  senseless  boy ;  we 
will  leave  him,  trusting  that  a  better  spirit  will  be  given 
to  him.  But,  Josiah,  remember  we  are  not  going  to 
screen  faults  which  we  ought  to  expose.  We  shall  speak 
to  some  elder,  and  ask  him  to  inform  Nathaniel  Fox  that 
his  daughter,  during  her  stay  here,  and  while  we  believed 
her  to  be  the  engaged  wife  of  our  brother,  was  seen  in 
the  embrace  of  a  strange  man,  and  he  a  soldier." 

"  It's  false !"  roared  Josiah ;  "  and  Nathaniel  Fox  knows 
of  it  already." 

"  Knows  of  what  ?"  cried  both  the  sisters. 

Josiah  with  a  great  gulp  at  the  final  extinguishing  of 
all  his  hopes,  said,  like  a  brave,  true-hearted  man,  as  he 
was,  "  The  man  was  Charles  Verschoyle,  her  accepted 
husband." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

EXPLANATION   AND   RECONCILIATION 

Saturday  had  come  round,  Lady  Laura  had  returned 
from  Beauwood,  and  Audrey  had  determined  that  she 
would  see  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  again.  If  possible,  she 
would  go  to  Miss  Bingham's  afternoon  party;  and  all 
her  energies  were  now  applied  to  obtain  her  mother's  aid 
in  accomplishing  this.  She  had  resolved  to  keep  Mr. 
Ford's  offer  a  secret  from  Lady  Laura.  She  did  not  re- 
pent her  refusal  of  him,  but  felt  great  comfort  in  know- 
ing that  she  had  settled  her  fate  so  far.  If  she  had  the 
slightest  hope  that  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  still  loved  her,  she 
believed  she  would  be  happy ;  but  though  sometimes  she 
indulged  in  delicious  dreams  of  forgiveness  and  renewed 
love,  they  generally  ended  in  tears  and  despair. 

Lady  Laura  was  in  excellent  spirits.  Her  visit  to  Beau- 
wood  had  been  a  success.  Lady  Spencer  had  made  herself 
very  agreeable  to  her,  and  she  had  been  pressed  to  visit 
them  again  at  Christmas. 

"  Considering  all  things,  I  am  very  glad  I  went,"  she 
said. 

"  I  am  glad  too,"  said  Audrey ;  "  I  think  it  has  done 
you  good,  mamma ;   you  are  looking  much  better." 

"  And  how  did  you  get  on  without  me,  dear  ?  I  thought 
of  you  constantly." 

"  Oh !  I  managed  very  well.  I  went  out  in  the  morn- 
ings with  Marshall,  and  yesterday  afternoon  Mr.  Ford 
came  to  see  me." 

Lady  Laura  started  up  from  the  sofa  and  exclaimed, 

303 


304  DOROTHY    FOX 

"  Mr.  Ford !    Audry,  you  don't  say  so.    Why,  what  did 
you  do?" 

"  Oh !  I  told  him  I  was  not  well  enough  to  go  with 'you, 
but  that  I  was  gradually  getting  better,  though  not  quite 
strong  yet." 

"  And  he — he  did  not  enter  into  anything  personal  ?" 

"  He  said  he  was  in  town  for  a  day  or  two,  and  he 
wanted  to  see  how  I  was." 

"  And  you  were  quite  cordial  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  quite ;  I  told  him  I  was  very  glad  to  see  him. 
He  is  coming  again  to  go  to  an  afternoon  party  which  Mr. 
Marjoribanks,  Miss  Bingham's  uncle,  is  to  give  at  Ealing ; 
and  he  brought  us  an  invitation.  He  said  he  told  Mrs. 
Winterton  he  knew  you  intended  calling  upon  her,  and 
as  they  were  very  anxious  that  we  should  come,  he  offered 
to  bring  the  card.  I' thought  you  would  accept,  and  told 
Mr.  Ford  so,  and  I  sent  a  little  note  to  Miss  Bingham." 

"  That  was  quite  right,  my  love,"  said  Lady  Laura, 
whose  hopes  now  began  to  revive  with  all  their  old  force. 
"  Did  he  say  that  he  had  heard  from  me  ?" 

"  No." 

"  And  his  manner  was  the  same  as  ever  ?" 

"  Quite  the  same." 

"  How  very  strange  that  he  should  have  come  the  day 
I  was  away!  but  everything  seems  to  have  turned  out 
well;"  and  she  looked  sharply  at  her  daughter,  but  Au- 
drey's face  was  unreadable.  "  Then  there  was  nothing 
unpleasant  during  the  interview,  and  you  parted  friends  ?" 
she  added. 

"  Yes." 

Lady  Laura  went  over  with  the  intention  of  kissing 
Audrey,  but  finding  her  daughter  apparently  unprepared 
for  this  unusual  demonstration,  she  quietly  patted  her 
head  instead,  saying,  "  Good  girl,  you  have  acted  as  I 


DOROTHY   FOX  305 

knew  you  would,  and  very  much  lightened  your  mother's 
heart." 

"  Shall  we  go  to  this  party  ?"^  asked  Audrey,  not  look- 
ing up. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear.  I  shall  call  upon  Mrs.  Winter- 
ton  to-day." 

Sunday,  Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday.  Oh,  how  the 
days  dragged ;  how  long  the  hours  seemed ;  how  wearily 
they  passed !  And  yet  when  Thursday  came,  Audrey 
would  fain  have  had  them  all  to  go  through  again,  so 
nervous  and  anxious  did  she  feel.  She  had  no  hope; 
only  the  certainty  of  future  bitterness,  and  fruitless  long- 
ing, seemed  to  stare  her  in  the  face.  Still,  suspense  was 
unendurable,  and  she  knew  herself  well  enough  to  be 
assured  that  nothing  could  try  her  so  severely, 

"  Marshall,  do  make  me  look  my  best  to-day,"  she 
said. 

"  Why,  Miss  Audrey,  you  don't  want  my  help.  I  never 
saw  you  looking  better.  Your  eyes  are  as  bright  as  when 
you  were  a  little  girl,  and  you've  got  quite  a  colour.  I'm 
sure  it's  a  treat  to  hear  you  speak  in  your  old  way  again, 
for  you  have  not  cared  what  you  looked  like  lately." 

So  that  afternoon,  notwithstanding  there  were  girls 
there  in  the  first  bloom  of  their  youth,  fresh  as  the  flowers 
they  sat  among — beauties  whose  conquests  and  triumphs 
were  only  beginning — none  of  them  attracted  more  at- 
tention than  did  Audrey  Verschoyle,  with  her  well-dressed, 
elegant  figure,  her  intellectual  face,  and  her  thorough- 
bred, unconscious,  self-possessed  manner.  As  she  entered 
the  room  all  eyes  were  turned  towards  her,  and  among 
others  those  of  a  man  who  felt  his  heart  give  quick  heavy 
beats,  and  his  vision  become  dimmed  until  all  was  blotted 
out,  except  that  face  blanched  white  and  upturned  to  his ; 
a  man  who  strained  his  ears  to  catch  the  sound  of  a 

20 


3o6  DOROTHY   FOX 

voice  which  haunted  him  day  and  night,  and  yet  who 
strove  to  command  himself  sufficiently  to  bend  his  head 
towards  his  companion  and  answer, — 

"  Yes,  unusually  cold  for  this  time  of  year." 

"  Warm,  I  said,"  laughed  the  lady  with  whom  he  was 
conversing, 

"  Yes,  I  meant  warm,"  answered  Mr.  Dynecourt. 

In  another  moment  he  had  touched  Audrey's  hand,  had 
expressed  to  Lady  Laura  his  pleasure  at  seeing  her  look- 
ing so  well,  and  his  regret  at  hearing  that  her  daughter 
had  been  an  invalid,  and  made  several  other  polite  com- 
monplace speeches.  But  not  once  had  he  turned  his  eyes 
upon  Audrey,  or  addressed  her  in  any  way.  As  they 
moved  on  he  looked  at  her,  thinking,  "  Her  face  looks 
as  if  it  were  chiselled  out  of  marble — like  her  heart." 
And  yet  he  could  have  flung  himself  at  her  feet  and  im- 
plored her  to  cheat  him  again.  He  longed  for  one  of  the 
old  loving  looks,  and  wished  he  could  again  feel  the  soft 
pressure  of  her  hand,  and  hear  the  low-toned  whispers 
that  had  lured  him  to  misery,  even  were  he  then  to  be 
cast  away,  a  prey  to  bitterness  and  despair. 

And  poor  Audrey,  how  did  it  fare  with  her?  She 
seemed  suddenly  benumbed;  she  was  surprised  she  did 
not  feel  more.  At  home  she  had  pictured  their  meeting, 
and  how  she  would  strive  to  look  unconscious,  and  re- 
strain the  tears  that  would  be  ready  to  flow  freely  if  he 
were  cold  and  distant,  as  she  feared  he  might  be.  Now 
all  her  fears  were  realised.  He  had,  as  much  as  he  could 
without  attracting  notice,  utterly  ignored  her,  and  yet 
she  did  not  seem  to  care — did  not  seem  to  care  for  any- 
thing that  might  happen  to  herself,  or  to  anybody. 

Miss  Bingham  and  Mrs.  Winterton  wondered  why 
Mr.  Ford  had  not  come.  Lady  Laura,  too,  was  sur- 
prised, although  she  did  not  worry  herself  much,  being 


DOROTHY    FOX  30;^ 

satisfied  that  her  daughter  had  got  over  her  fit  of  re- 
fusing him,  and  was  now  quite  ready  to  be  Mrs.  Richard 
Ford  when  asked.  Her  ladyship  thought  this  happy  re- 
sult entirely  owing  to  her  own  diplomacy,  and  prided  her- 
self greatly  on  her  skill  in  leaving  Audrey  at  home, 
moping  by  herself.  She  considered  this  to  be  the  final 
touch  which  had  brought  about  the  desired  end.  So  she 
lent  a  ready  ear  to  a  story  told  by  Mr.  Marjoribanks,  of 
how  he  had  been  fascinated  in  days  gone  by  with  a  por- 
trait of  herself  in  the  "  Book  of  Beauty,"  and  that  by  it 
he  should  have  recognised  her  anywhere.  In  recounting 
her  past  triumphs,  and  the  homage  which  had  been  paid 
to  a  beauty  of  which,  she  said,  she  might  now  safely 
speak  without  being  accused  of  vanity,  her  daughter  was 
forgotten. 

Audrey  was  sitting  for  a  few  minutes  alone,  having 
asked  Colonel  Grant,  with  whom  she  had  been  talking, 
to  get  her  some  tea.  Lifting  her  eyes  suddenly,  she  met 
a  look  of  passionate  longing  that  made  every  nerve  tingle, 
and  in  an  instant,  without  pausing  to  consider,  she  made 
a  sign  to  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  to  join  her.  He  came  to  her 
at  once,  but  with  such  sternness  in  his  face  that  Audrey 
could  hardly  steady  her  voice  to  say,  "  I — I  wanted  to 
speak  to  you ;  could  you  find  some  place  where  we  should 
not  bt  overheard?" 

Just  then  Colonel  Grant  returned  with  the  tea,  making 
many  excuses  for  being  delayed ;  and  Mr.  Dynecourt 
said,  "  I  will  look  for  the  plant  I  was  speaking  of,  Miss 
Verschoyle,  and  then  perhaps  you  will  permit  me  to  show 
it  to  you." 

He  left  her,  and  did  not  return  until  many  of  the  com- 
pany were  moving  about,  looking  at  the  ferns  and  rare 
plants,  so  that  their  being  together  was  not  likely  to  at- 
tract notice.    "  Near  to  this,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  small 


3o8  DOROTHY   FOX 

room  thrown  open  to  the  guests ;  no  one  was  in  it  a  few 
minutes  since,  and  we  are  less  likely  to  be  interrupted 
there  than  anywhere  else." 

Audrey  bowed  her  head;  to  speak  seemed  to  her  im- 
possible. 

A  short  glass-covered  passage  led  to  the  room,  the 
door  of  which  Mr.  Dynecourt  opened,  but  immediately 
closed,  finding  it  already  occupied  by  a  lady  and  gentle- 
man engaged  in  conversation.  He  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  "  You  must  take  a  turn  with  me  in  the 
garden.  You  have  your  bonnet  and  cloak  on,  it  will  not 
harm  you ;"  and  before  Audrey  had  time  to  question  the 
propriety  of  this  course  she  was  walking  by  Geoffrey 
Dynecourt's  side,  and  feeling  that  she  would  have  given 
the  whole  world  to  have  been  anywhere  else.  Why  had 
she  brought  him  there?  She  had  nothing  to  say,  her 
strength  seemed  to  be  forsaking  her,  and  she  was  over- 
come with  shame  at  the  thought  that  she  was  forcing  her 
love  upon  him,  and  that  he  saw  it.  This  nerved  her  to 
make  a  great  effort  and  say,  "  Mr.  Dynecourt,  perhaps 
you  may  think  me  strangely  inconsistent  in  wanting  to 
speak  to  you  alone.  But  Mr.  Ford  told  me  that  you 
were  thinking  of  going  abroad  for  many  years,  and  I — I 
could  not  bear  that  you  should  have  a  bad  opinion  of  me 
all  your  life." 

"  A  bad  opinion,"  he  said ;  "  who  told  you  that  I  had 
a  bad  opinion  of  you  ?" 

"  No  one  told  me  so  in  words ;  but  the  message  you 
asked  Mr.  Ford  to  g^ve  me  was  no  arrow  shot  at  ran- 
dom.   You  knew  it  would  wound  where  it  was  aimed." 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Verschoyle,  if  I  say  I  had  no  idea 
that  you  could  be  wounded." 

Audrey  did  not  answer;  but  turned  with  defiant  eyes 
and  looked  straight  at  him  as  she  said, — 


DOROTHY   FOX  309 

"  Mr.  Dynecourt,  you  are  very  hard  upon  me ;  but 
perhaps  it  is  best,  for  your  pity  would  be  unbearable,  and 
for  a  moment  I  feared  that  I  might  have  incurred  it.  I 
see  now  that  I  was  wrong  to  intrude  myself  upon  you,  and 
take  you  from  pleasant  society  to  listen  to  the  woman 
who  has  taught  you  to  show  a  want  of  courtesy  to  her 
sex.  I  came,  in  the  weakness  of  my  nature,  to  ask  you  to 
forgive  the  pain  I  have  caused  you,  and  not  to  think  be- 
cause /  seemed  to  you  false  and  hard-hearted,  that  truth 
and  love  had  ceased  to  exist  among  us.  I  hope  there  is 
yet  much  happiness  in  store  for  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  am  certain  of  happiness.  Exiled 
from  my  country,  a  homeless  man  without  hope,  without 
a  creature  to  care  for  me,  I  cannot  but  be  happy.  If  at 
any  time  a  gloomy  moment  should  come,  I  have  but  to 
recall  the  picture  of  my  old  home,  the  smell  of  whose  very 
earth  is  dear  to  me.  I  have  only  to  remember  that  it  is  in 
the  hands  of  strangers;  that  the  people  who  loved  me 
and  served  me,  as  their  fathers  did  my  fathers,  are  serving 
other  masters ;  and  that  the  woman  I  would  have  died  for 
is  mistress  of  Dyne  Court,  rejoicing  in  the  lovely  face 
which  lured  a  weak  fool  to  his  destruction,  and  the  arts 
which  caught  the  old  man  who  could  give  her  the  only 
thing  her  soul  longed  for — money,  fine  clothes,  and 
jewels." 

"  It  is  false,"  she  said ;  "  I  shall  never  be  the  wife  of 
Richard  Ford !" 

"  You  tell  me  so,  when  not  an  hour  since  I  heard  your 
mother  receiving  congratulations  on  your  approaching 
marriage?    How  am  I  to  believe  you?" 

"  Because  I  tell  you." 

"You  tell  me  what?" 

"  That  he  has  already  asked  me,  and  I  have  refused  to 
marry  him." 


3IO  DOROTHY   FOX 

Geoffrey  Dynecourt  staggered  and  turned  pale  as  death, 

"  And,  sir,"  she  continued,  haughtily,  "  now  that  I  have 
added  to  my  other  sins  in  showing  you  how  easily  I  can 
betray  a  confidence  which  noble-minded  women  consider 
sacred,  it  is  time  we  parted,"  and  she  turned  to  leave 
him. 

But  Mr.  Dynecourt  grasped  her  arm  and,  drawing  her 
towards  him,  said,  in  a  voice  choked  with  emotion, — 

"  Audrey,  for  the  sake  of  God  who  sees  both  our  hearts, 
don't  let  us  part  like  this.  Have  mercy  upon  me.  Show 
me  some  pity,  or  I  shall  go  mad.  Have  you  nothing, 
nothing  more  to  say  to  me?" 

She  lifted  up  her  face,  white  to  the  lips,  and  looking 
for  an  instant  into  the  eager,  passionate  eyes  whose  gaze 
seemed  intense  enough  to  read  her  thoughts,  answered, 
slowly, — 

"  Yes — that — I — ^love — ^you  with  all  my  heart !"  and 
then  cold,  undemonstrative  Audrey  threw  her  arms  round 
this  man's  neck,  and  her  tears  rained  upon  his  breast. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  hush  her,  or  to  still  her  sobs ;  he 
only  held  her  as  if  defying  the  whole  world  to  tear  her 
from  him. 

"  Audrey,"  he  whispered,  hoarsely,  "  you  are  not  de- 
ceiving yourself  and  me?  It  is  love,  not  pity,  that  you 
are  giving  me  ?" 

The  tightening  of  her  arms  was  her  only  answer. 

"  You  know  I  am  poor,  and  that  I  never  expect  to  be 
otherwise ;  that  I  can  give  you  nothing  but  the  necessaries 
of  life ;  that  I  ask  you  to  share  cares,  anxieties^  and  per- 
haps troubles  of  which  you  have  known  nothing  hitherto. 
What  do  you  say  ?" 

She  no  longer  hid  her  face,  but  looking  at  him  an- 
swered, "  That  if  you  will  take  me,  I  will  be  your  wife ;" 
and  in  the  kiss  that  sealed  this  bond  "  their  hearts  leaped 


He  did  not  attempt  to  hush  her,  or  to  still  her  sobs 


DOROTHY    FOX  311 

to  their  lips,"  and  vowed  a  constancy  that  death  alone 
could  sever.  .  .  . 

Have  they  been  hours  together,  or  has  time  stood  still, 
that  the  light  looks  only  a  shade  dimmer  than  it  did  when 
they  entered  this  garden  of  paradise?  Around  nothing 
is  changed,  all  is  the  very  same  except  the  two  who  are 
walking  towards  the  house.  Can  this  soft  April  expres- 
sion and  these  liquid,  loving  eyes  belong  to  the  cold, 
haughty-looking  woman,  whose  face  seemed  chiselled  out 
of  marble?  Is  it  possible  that  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  has 
ever  looked  stem  and  relentless,  with  hard  lines  about  a 
mouth  where  now  you  could  almost  see  dimples? 

"  And  you  are  sure  you  never  really  ceased  to  love 
me?" 

"Never;  I  used  to  hate  myself,  because  I  could  not 
help  loving  you  so  madly." 

"  And  I  have  lain  and  cried  myself  to  sleep,  thinking 
of  our  bitter  parting,  and  that  you  had  forgotten  me." 

"  Oh,  Audrey,  how  could  I,  how  could  any  man  who 
had  ever  loved  you,  cease  to  love  you  ?  My  darling,  night 
after  night  I  have  watched  your  window,  and  as  I  passed 
the  house  I  have  rested  my  hand  against  the  wall,  because 
inside  was  the  treasure  whose  image  filled  my  heart." 

"  We  have  both  suffered !"  she  said. 

"  We  have  indeed,  dearest,  but  how  small  it  seems  to 
the  joy  that  I  feel  now !  Oh !  Audrey,  I  could  ask  you 
every  moment  if  you  love  me,  for  the  ecstasy  of  hearing 
you  say  you  do." 

"  And  I  could  listen  to  the  question  for  ever,  so  sweet 
is  it  to  know  that  you  want  my  love." 

"  We  must  go  in,"  he  said ;  "  I  dare  not  keep  you  out 
longer,  and  yet  to  meet  other  people  now  seems  more  than 
I  can  bear." 


312  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  We  only  part  until  to-morrow,  and  my  thoughts  will 
not  leave  you  for  one  moment ;"  then  with  her  old  gaiety 
she  added,  "  Now  let  us  gather  up  all  our  energies  to 
meet  the  attack  with  boldness;  for  it  fails  me  to  think 
where  the  people  imagine  we  can  be." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 
"what  can  he  want?" 

Audrey  and  Geoffrey  Dynecourt  carried  off  the  excla- 
mations of  surprise  at  their  absence  in  a  very  clever  man- 
ner, aided  greatly  by  Lady  Laura's  perfect  tranquillity 
regarding  their  movements.  She  said  she  certainly  ought 
to  scold  Mr.  Dynecourt  for  permitting  Audrey  to  act  so 
foolishly,  although,  as  she  remarked  to  those  near  her, 
"  I  quite  expected  her  to  be  missing,  for  Audrey  can't 
stand  the  heat  of  a  room,  or  of  any  covered  place,  when 
she  has  her  bonnet  on.  I  remember  Lady  Alfreton  taking 
her  to  an  affair  of  this  kind,  and  she  went  roaming  about 
the  grounds  and  was  absolutely  lost."  She  did  not  men- 
tion that  this  was  in  the  height  of  summer,  when  most  of 
the  people  there  did  the  same.  In  her  heart  Lady  Laura 
was  very  much  annoyed  at  her  daughter's  conduct,  but 
she  was  too  wise  to  give  others  a  handle  against  her  by 
betraying  the  slightest  irritation. 

"  It's  absurd,"  thought  she,  "  for  Audrey  to  be  setting 
everybody  at  defiance;  and  Mr.  Ford  would  not  proba- 
bly like  to  hear  that  she  was  so  entirely  engrossed  with 
another  in  his  absence.  I  shall  speak  to  her  as  soon  as 
we  are  alone." 

Very  soon  after  this  she  was  expressing  to  Mr.  Majori- 
banks  how  much  she  had  enjoyed  his  pleasant  gathering. 
Then,  leaning  on  her  host's  arm,  she  left,  distributing 
smiles,  adieux,  and  farewell  compliments,  causing  a  per- 
fect chorus  of  "  What  a  charming  woman !"  to  follow  her 
departure. 

313 


314  DOROTHY   FOX 

Mr.  Dynecourt  escorted  Audrey  to  the  carriage.  Just 
before  it  drove  off  he  asked  Lady  Laura  if  she  would  be 
disengaged  at  two  o'clock  the  next  day,  as  he  wished  her 
to  give  him  a  few  minutes'  conversation. 

"  Certainly ;  I  shall  be  very  pleased  to  see  you,"  she 
said,  with  her  most  fascinating  smile.  Waiting  for  a 
moment,  she  turned  suddenly  to  her  daughter  and  said, 
"  What  can  he  want  ?  I  have  not  been  speaking  about 
him  to  anybody,  have  I  ?" 

Audrey  was  glad  that  her  face  could  not  be  seen.  Left 
with  her  mother,  she  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Tell  her 
she  must;  she  could  never  let  this  thunderbolt  be 
launched  by  Geoffrey  first.  She  knew  a  storm  would 
be  sure  to  follow,  and  thought  it  best  to  allow  some  of 
the  violence  to  be  spent  before  he  came.  Yet  how  to 
begin  or  what  to  say  or  do  she  could  not  tell.  To  have 
contemplated  a  marriage  with  a  poor  man  at  any  time 
would  have  been  a  dreadful  crime;  now,  when  a  rich 
suitor  was  at  her  feet,  the  offence  would  be  a  thousand 
times  greater. 

"  I  wonder  what  could  have  prevented  Mr.  Ford  from 
coming,"  continued  Lady  Laura ;  "  I  daresay  you  will 
have  a  letter  from  him  to-night.    I  hope  he  is  not  ill." 

"  I  hope  not,"  returned  her  daughter. 

"  And,  Audrey,  I  must  say  that  I  think  you  acted  very 
unwisely  to-day  in  permitting  Mr.  Dynecourt  to  pay  you 
so  much  attention." 

"  Did  he  pay  me  much  attention,  mamma  ?" 

"  Well,  you  know  what  I  mean.  I  suppose  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  sake  of  getting  up  some  stupid  sort  of 
flirtation  with  him  you  would  not  have  gone  roaming 
into  the  garden,  or  to  some  distant  greenhouse,  or 
wherever  you  did  go.  I  made  the  best  of  it,  but  I  assure 
you  I  was  not  pleased;   and  let  me  tell  you,  nobody  can 


DOROTHY    FOX  315 

afford  to  set  people's  tongues  at  naught  before  mar- 
riage." 

"  Can  they  afterwards  ?  Because,  if  so,  I  shall  get 
married  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Well,  of  course,  when  a  woman  has  a  husband,  and  a 
good  house,  and  her  position  is  established,  people  are 
very  lenient  to  her  peculiarities.  If  you  choose  to  make 
a  friend  of  one  person  then,  do  so;  though,  remember, 
it's  rather  a  task  to  turn  a  bear  into  a  domestic  animal," 
and  Lady  Laura  laughed  at  her  own  sharpness. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  the  allusion,"  said  Audrey. 

"  Don't  you,  dear  ?"  replied  Lady  Laura,  playfully. 
"  Well,  you  know  I  always  look  upon  Mr.  Dynecourt  as 
having  something  of  the  savage  about  him,  and  one 
never  knows  when  the  nature  of  such  people  will  peep 
out." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  do  not  like  him,"  replied  her  daughter. 

"  Oh,  I  like  him  well  enough ;  and  if  he  is  to  be  a 
favourite  of  yours,  my  dear  child,  rest  assured  I  shall 
never  interfere  with  you." 

"  Then  is  securing  my  regard  the  same  as  securing 
yours,  mamma?" 

"  Of  course  it  will  be,  love." 

"But  is  it  now?" 

"  Yes,  decidedly." 

"  Then,  in  that  case,  I  need  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  why 
Mr.  Dynecourt  is  coming  to  see  you  to-morrow,"  said 
Audrey.  Her  heart  beat  very  fast,  and  she  felt  desper- 
ately nervous;  but  it  was  of  no  use  waiting;  she  had 
better  have  it  over — "  and  that  is  because  he  wants  your 
consent  to  marry  me." 

Lady  Laura  paused  for  a  moment  to  take  in  the  words 
fully,  then  she  laughed.  "  Marry  you !  well,  that  is  a 
good  joke.    Has  he  never  heard  about  Mr.  Ford  ?" 


3i6  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  my  dear,  you  are  carrying  the  thing  a  great 
deal  too  far.  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was  any  flirtation 
going  on  between  you,  but  I  think  you  might  have  spared 
me  the  trouble  of  answering  him.  If  you  do  not  want 
to  make  an  enemy  of  the  man,  you  need  not  have  said 
you  did  not  care  for  him.  You  could  have  given  him  to 
understand  that  you  had  already  accepted  Mr.  Ford." 

"  But  I  have  not  accepted  Mr.  Ford." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not  in  words,  but  you  mean  to  marry 
him." 

"  No,  I  do  not." 

"  Not  intend  to  marry  Mr.  Ford  ?" 

"  No,  mamma ;  and  I  may  as  well  tell  you  all  at  once. 
Mr.  Ford  has  proposed  to  me  and  I  have  refused  him; 
and  Mr.  Dynecourt  has  asked  me  to  marry  him  and  I 
have  accepted  him," 

"Audrey !"  almost  screamed  Lady  Laura,"  you're  mad ; 
I'm  positive  you  are,  you  wicked,  bad,  abandoned  girl ! — 
you  must  be.  I  don't  believe  it's  true ;  you're  only  saying 
this  to  worry  and  annoy  me,  and  I  can't  stand  it ;  your 
conduct  already  has  so  upset  my  nerves  that  I  feel  as  if 
the  slightest  strain  would  make  me  break  down  alto- 
gether." 

"  Mamma,  I  am  very  sorry.  I  know  I  told  you  very 
abruptly,  but  it  is  better  that  you  should  know  the  truth." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  then,  that  what  you  have 
just  said  is  true,  and  that  you  really  intend  to  act  in  this 
way?"  asked  Lady  Laura,  speaking  very  slowly. 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

"  Then  you  never  shall !"  exclaimed  her  mother.  "  I'd 
rather  put  you  into  a  lunatic  asylum  than  allow  you  to 
marry  that  penniless,  senseless  beggar.  Never,  Audrey, 
never  shall  you  marry  that  man." 


DOROTHY   FOX  317 

"  Of  course  I  am  prepared  for  your  being  very  angry 
and  very  disappointed,  mamma.  I  have  no  doubt  were 
I  in  your  place  I  should  be  the  same.  Perhaps  just  now 
it  is  useless  for  me  to  say  how  sorry  I  am  to  grieve  you, 
still  I  am  truly  sorry;  but  don't  say  I  shall  never  marry 
Mr.  Dynecourt.    Listen  to  reason,  mamma." 

"  I  will  listen  to  nothing ;  and  you  had  better  write  and 
tell  him  not  to  dare  to  come  near  me,  or  I'll  have  him  put 
out  of  the  house — ^the  impertinent,  presuming,  red-headed 
fellow." 

The  latter  epithet  was  too  much  for  Audrey's  gravity ; 
the  absurdity  of  such  a  reflection  being  cast  upon  Geof- 
frey's tawny  locks  turned  her  anger  at  once,  and  she  said," 
in  a  softened  voice, — 

"  I  know,  mamma,  my  choice  must  appear  to  you  to 
be  unaccountable,  but  when  I  tell  you  I  love  this  man  well 
enough,  I  believe,  to  beg  my  very  bread  with  him,  surely, 
with  such  a  feeling  in  my  heart,  you  will  not  counsel  me 
to  marry  Mr.  Ford." 

"  You  ought  to  marry  Mr.  Ford  and  have  no  feeling 
in  your  heart." 

"  Quite  so ;  and  as  long  as  I  had  no  feeling  I  was 
willing  to  become  his  wife ;  but  now  I  would  rather  jump 
into  the  river  than  do  so." 

"  And  I  would  rather  see  you  lying  there  than  dis- 
graced. Oh,  what  have  I  done  that  my  children  should 
treat  me  so  shamefully!  But  as  you  have  no  thought 
for  me,  I  will  have  none  for  you,  and  I'll  tell  every  one 
that  you're  mad,  and  your  new  lover  shall  have  a  nice 
account  of  your  former  conduct.  I'll  tell  him  how  you 
have  deceived  and  cajoled  others ;  that  your  love  for  him 
is  only  a  pretence;  that  you  have  no  heart  and  never 
had  one." 

"  All  that  will  fall  on  deaf  ears,  mamma ;    he  knows 


3i8  DOROTHY   FOX 

my  best  and  my  worst,  and,  thank  God,  he  is  content  to 
take  me  as  I  am.  But  understand,  mamma,  although  I 
wish  to  give  you  all  the  obedience  and  respect  that  you 
are  entitled  to,  yet  I  intend  to  marry  Geoffrey  Dynecourt ; 
therefore  I  trust  you  will  not  force  me  to  do  anything 
which  might  give  rise  to  scandal,  I  am  content  to  wait 
your  time,  to  take  your  advice,  to  follow  out  any  plan 
you  may  think  best,  but  I  intend  to  marry  Geoffrey  Dyne- 
court  ;  and  I  also  intend  the  world  to  know  it." 

"  Oh,  yes ;   publish  your  disgrace  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Do  not  speak  in  that  way,  mother,  for  love  has  so 
softened  me  that  I  long  to  throw  my  arms  round  you  and 
sob  out  my  happiness ;"  and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  cried  bitterly. 

"If  you  had  made  a  proper  choice  I  should  have  been 
very  pleased  to  have  received  any  proof  of  your  affec- 
tion. But  when  I  remember  how  you  have  deceived  me, 
by  never  saying  one  word  of  this,  and  leading  me  to  sup- 
pose that  you  would  marry  Mr.  Ford,  I  can  put  little  faith 
in  either  your  love  or  your  tears.  What  I  can  possibly 
say  to  that  man  I  know  not.  I  fully  expect  he'll  threaten 
us  with  an  action,  and  I  cannot  blame  him  if  he  does." 

"  You  need  not  fear  Mr.  Ford  troubling  you ;  he  was 
far  kinder  to  me  than  you  have  been,  mamma." 

"  Very  glad  to  get  quit  of  his  bargain,"  sneered  her 
ladyship ;  "  and  I  am  sure  no  one  need  wonder  at  it. 
You  seem  to  think  that  you  are  somebody,  to  encourage 
and  lead  people  on,  and  then  refuse  them ;  but  I  can  tell 
you  the  world  won't  be  so  ready  to  believe  your  story. 
Common  sense  will  tell  people  that,  unless  you  are  mad — 
as  I  believe  you  are — it  is  not  very  probable  that  a  passe 
woman  of  thirty,  without  good  looks  or  accomplishments 
— for  /  don't  know  what  you  can  do — would  refuse  a 
man  whose  only  folly  is  that  with  such  a  fortune  as  his 


DOROTHY   FOX  319 

he  has  not  aimed  higher.  Lady  Inverlochy  would  have 
jumped  at  him  for  one  of  her  girls ;  and  as  for  the  Gra- 
hams, they  were  after  him  like  a  pack  of  hounds." 

"  Well,  mamma,"  said  Audrey,  smiling,  "  now  they  can 
try  their  chance.  I  will  promise  not  to  interfere  with  any 
one,  if  they  will  only  let  me  alone." 

"  Oh,  yes !  just  like  your  selfish  nature,"  exclaimed 
her  mother.  "  As  long  as  your  wishes  are  gratified  you 
never  consider  other  people.  It  will  be  very  pleasant  for 
me  to  hear  the  sneers  and  innuendoes  of  women  whose 
daughters  have  made  excellent  matches.  I  know  their 
way  of  supposing  it  is  a  love-match,  and  adding,  *  What 
else  could  it  be  for?'  A  polite  reminder  that  they  are 
quite  aware  of  the  poverty  of  the  whole  affair.  What 
your  brother  will  say  I  do  not  know." 

"  Say !  What  can  he  say  ?  I  am  sure  he  did  all  he 
could  to  put  me  against  Mr.  Ford." 

"  That  is  only  because  men  always  underrate  what  they 
consider  secure.  You'll  find  he  will  not  be  so  delighted 
to  have  a  brother-in-law  whose  present  position  I  con- 
sider to  be  only  one  step  above  that  of  a  tradesman." 

Audrey  laughed  outright.  "  Well,  mamma,  that  is  just 
what  I  want  you  to  see — that,  after  all,  Geoffrey  is  in 
advance  of  Mr.  Ford." 

Lady  Laura  shrugged  her  shoulders,  saying,  if  they 
had  come  to  quibbling  about  words,  it  was  time  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  conversation.  She  sat  silent  for  the  few  min- 
utes before  they  reached  home,  stepped  out  of  the  car- 
riage, and  betook  herself  to  her  own  room,  from  which 
she  did  not  emerge  during  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Audrey  sat  considering  how  she  could  best  soften  her 
mother's  wrathful  indignation  and  keep  her  rather  sharp 
tongue  in  check  during  the  interview  which  she  so  much 
dreaded  for  Geoffrey  Dynecourt.    His  poverty,  she  feared, 


320  DOROTHY   FOX 

would  be  rather  a  sore  subject  with  him  when  made  the 
target  for  all  the  arrows  with  which  her  mother  intended 
to  pierce  him.  If  Charles  were  only  at  hand,  she  thought 
he  might  make  matters  smoother  for  her.  So,  after 
thinking  over  it,  she  wrote  and  asked  him  to  help  her. 
Lady  Laura  was  similarly  employed;  so  the  same  post 
conveyed  two  letters  to  Captain  Verschoyle,  both  of  them 
begging  him  to  return  home  at  once.    Audrey's  said, — 

"  Dearest  Charlie, — For  the  sake  of  old  days,  give  me  your 
help.  Something  has  happened  which  has  made  mamma  very 
angry,  and  she  will  not  listen  to  me,  or  to  sense  or  reason.  To 
you  she  would  probably  pay  more  attention ;  will  you  therefore 
come  home  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  try  to  set  matters  straight 
between  us? 

"  Ever  your  loving  sister, 

"  Audrey. 

"  P.S. — I  cannot  explain  anything  in  a  letter ;  but  I  am  so 
happy,  and  I  am  longing  to  hear  some  one  say  they  are  glad  to 
hear  it." 

Lady  Laura  wrote, — 

"  My  dear  Charles, — Audrey  has  gone  mad ;  quite  mad,  I 
believe.  I  can  give  you  no  explanation  of  her  conduct  in  a  letter. 
As  I  trust  it  may  still  be  hushed  up,  I  do  not  like  to  say  a  word 
on  paper;  but  I  must  see  you.  So  make  any  excuse  you  like  to 
Mr.  Egerton,  and  return  at  once  to 

"  Your  affectionate,  but  really  distracted  mother, 

"  Laura  Verschoyle." 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

REDCOAT   ASSURANCE 

Abigail  Fletcher,  Patience  Fox's  only  sister,  was  a 
tiny,  fragile,  dark-eyed  little  woman,  with  a  stout  will  and 
opinion  of  her  own,  a  quick,  vivacious  temperament,  and 
a  general  interest  in  the  affairs  of  all  her  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances. Most  people  in  and  about  York  knew  the 
Fletchers.  Therefore  when  Dorothy  told  Mr.  Egerton 
she  was  going  to  visit  her  aunt,  he  made  greater  friends 
with  her,  telling  her  he  remembered  her  mother  well,  and 
adding,  "  Though  I  have  not  a  shake-hands  acquaintance 
with  your  aunt,  ive  know  each  other." 

To  Captain  Verschoyle  the  old  gentleman  was  not  dis- 
posed to  be  quite  so  amiable,  and  to  Dorothy's  horror 
Charles  received  two  or  three  decided  snubs.  When  they 
reached  the  station  Miss  Fletcher  was  waiting  for  Doro- 
thy. Mr.  Egerton  jumped  out  and  told  her  that  he  had 
been  entrusted  by  Mr.  Crewdson  with  the  care  of  her 
niece,  and  he  had  much  pleasure  in  finding  that  York 
could  claim  an  interest  in  the  young  lady,  "  for  her  face 
does  as  much  credit  to  it  as  her  mother's  did  before  her." 

This  led  to  a  conversation  about  Patience  and  old  days, 
during  which  Dorothy  and  Captain  Verschoyle  found 
time  to  say  a  few  words  to  each  other  and  to  arrange  a 
meeting. 

"  But  you  must  introduce  me  to  your  aunt,"  said 
Charles. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Dorothy,  feeling  very  nervous  about 
performing  this  ceremony.     A  pause  occurred,  and  she 

2X  321 


322  DOROTHY    FOX 

began,  "Aunt  Abigail,  this  is  Charles  Verschoyle. 
Mother  knows  him,"  she  added,  timidly. 

"  That's  right,  Miss  Fox,  back  him  up  with  a  good 
reference ;  I  am  sure  his  appearance  requires  it,"  said 
Mr.  Egerton. 

Fortunately  Aunt  Abigail  knew  the  eccentric  character 
of  Mr.  Egerton,  so  without  replying  to  this  comment  she 
held  out  her  hand  to  Captain  Verschoyle,  made  a  few  re- 
marks to  him,  and,  asking  Dorothy  if  she  were  quite 
ready,  entered  the  fly  which  was  waiting  for  them. 

The  two  gentlemen  watched  the  fly  till  it  was  out  of 
sight,  and  Mr.  Egerton,  taking  his  godson's  arm,  walked 
on  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence,  and  then  said, — 

"  When  I  unearthed  you  twice  near  Miss  Fletcher's, 
why  couldn't  you  have  told  me  what  took  you  in  that 
direction?  What  need  was  there  for  trumping  up  a 
story  about  Hartop?  I  suppose  you  aren't  ashamed  of 
knowing  the  girl,  are  you?" 

"  Ashamed !"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  showing 
through  his  bronzed  skin  the  colour  which  the  question 
brought  to  his  cheeks ;   "  I  don't  quite  understand  you." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  pity !"  replied  Mr.  Egerton,  with  a 
sneer.  "  You're  so  uncommonly  sharp  generally,  par- 
ticularly in  deceiving  other  people  when  you  have  a 
game  of  your  own  on  hand.  Ha,  ha!"  he  suddenly 
roared,  "  I  can't  help  laughing  when  I  think  of  your  face ; 
I  never  saw  a  fellow  so  chop-fallen  in  my  life.  So  you 
thought  I  didn't  know  you  were  going  to  Leeds  ?" 

"  I  really  did  not  think  or  care  about  it.  Miss  Fox's 
sister  has  shown  me  a  great  deal  of  kindness,  and  know- 
ing that  I  should  probably  see  her  in  town,  I  thought  it 
would  only  be  civil  to  call  and  inquire  for  the  young 
lady." 

"  You're  your  father's  own  son,  Charlie,"  said  the  old 


DOROTHY   FOX  323 

gentleman.  "  You've  a  precious  awkward  way  of  telling 
a  lie.  Now,  your  mother  does  it  handsomely ;  but  then 
it's  a  woman's  trade.  How  did  you  come  to  know  this 
girl?    Who  is  she?    What's  her  father?" 

Captain  Verschoyle  tried  to  cover  his  vexation  by  pre- 
tending to  be  amused.  "  Upon  my  word,  sir,  one  would 
imagine  that  you  thought  I  had  some  serious  design 
upon  the  young  lady,  whom  I  know  because  she  is  the 
sister  of  Mrs.  Hanbury,  of  Fryston  Grange." 

"  Well,  then,  who  is  the  father  of  Mrs.  Hanbury,  of 
Fryston  Grange  ?  and  who's  Hanbury  ?  You  don't  think 
I  forget  your  ways  of  asking  everybody's  pedigree,  that 
after  eating  their  dinners  and  drinking  their  wines  you 
may  turn  up  your  aristocratic  nose  at  them  and  their 
belongings.  I  know  you're  beating  about  the  bush,  Char- 
lie, so  you  may  as  well  tell  me  whether  he's  a  tallow- 
chandler  or  a  cheesemonger;  for,  fortunately  for  us, 
card-playing,  racing,  betting,  or  most  other  ways  of  get- 
ting money  under  false  pretences,  are  not  popular  profes- 
sions among  the  middle  classes  yet." 

Captain  Verschoyle  saw  that  he  had  better  answer  in 
a  straightforward  manner,  so  he  said, — 

"  Mrs.  Hanbury 's  husband  is  a  corn  merchant  in  Lx)n- 
don,  and  her  father  is  a  cloth  dealer  in  the  West  of  Eng- 
land." 

"  West  of  England !  What  do  you  mean  by  the  West 
of  England?" 

"  Why,  Plymouth." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  Plymouth,  then  ?  That's  where 
you  were  sick  so  long  after  landing  in  England.  Oh,  so 
you  made  her  acquaintance  there." 

"  Really,  sir,  you  are  making  a  great  deal  out  of  noth- 
ing," said  Captain  Verschoyle,  losing  his  temper.  "  Out 
of  mere  courtesy  I  call  upon  a  young  lady,  to  ask  if  she 


324  DOROTHY   FOX 

has  any  commissions  for  her  sister,  and  you  twist  it 
about  and  question  me  as  if  you  thought  I  were  going 
to  propose  to  her  immediately." 

"  No,  I've  not  got  that  thought  in  my  head,  CharHe ; 
but  I  have  this  one :  you  have  a  good  many  philandering 
ways  about  you  which  a  girl  like  that  doesn't  understand. 
The  young  fellows  she  has  been  accustomed  to  haven't 
been  blessed  with  your  redcoat  assurance,  so  they  don't 
take  it  for  granted  that  anything  becomes  them.  Why, 
she's  a  baby  compared  to  the  women  you're  accustomed 
to.  Her  blushing  smiles  and  tears  come  as  quickly  as 
sunshine  and  cloud  on  an  April  morning." 

"  You're  speaking  plainly,  sir." 

"  Yes,  I  generally  do,  particularly  to  you,  my  boy ;  but 
I  never  left  you  in  a  scrape  if  I  could  get  you  out." 

"  That  you  never  did,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  his 
anger  vanishing  as  he  remembered  the  many  substantial 
acts  of  kindness  he  had  received  from  his  godfather. 
"  Now,  tell  me  what's  all  this  about,  and  what  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"  Why,  this :  that  that  girl  has  caught  your  fancy, 
and  you  want  her  to  be  equally  taken  with  you.  Well, 
you've  no  intention  of  marrying  her,  and  some  fine  day 
the  time  for  parting  comes.  Until  you  are  out  of  her 
sight,  of  course,  you  are  heart-broken;  but  after  that 
you  are  consoled  by  a  cigar  or  a  new  friend,  while  she 
frets  and  pines  after  you,  smiles  and  rejects  an  honest 
man  who  would  have  tried  to  make  her  happy,  and  finally 
becomes  a  discontented  wife  or  a  soured  old  maid." 

"  In  this  case,  although  all  you  say  were  true,  I  could 
not  marry  the  young  lady.  Quakers  don't  permit  their 
daughters  to  marry  soldiers,  I  believe.  I  remember  hear- 
ing Miss  Fox  say  that  nothing  would  induce  her  to  dis- 
obey her  parents  in  such  a  matter." 


DOROTHY   FOX  325 

Mr.  Egerton  looked  at  his  companion  sharply  from 
under  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  but  Captain  Verschoyle 
avoided  the  scrutiny,  and,  calling  his  attention  to  some 
other  matter,  the  subject  for  the  time  dropped. 

At  Darington  Captain  Verschoyle  found  the  letters 
from  Audrey  and  his  mother,  and  as  he  dressed  for  din- 
ner he  speculated  sometimes  on  what  could  be  wrong 
with  his  sister,  but  more  frequently  on  what  he  should 
do  about  Dorothy.  "  Entreat  her  to  marry  me  if  I  stay 
here,  I  know ;  for  after  parting  with  her  I  found  myself 
thinking  how  I  could  best  manage  it,  and  it  was  won- 
derful how  my  hopes  of  military  glory  faded  before  the 
rosy  sun  which  illumined  '  Love  in  a  cottage.'  I  wish  I 
had  never  seen  the  child.  The  idea  of  sacrificing  a  sweet, 
pretty  creature  like  her  to  that  prim-faced  Crewdson,  a 
fellow  with  no  more  sense  than  he  was  born  with,  noth- 
ing of  the  man  about  him — a  fine  specimen  of  a  lover, 
in  truth.  What  can  some  parents  be  thinking  of?  They 
don't  care  who  their  children  marry,  so  long  as  they  get 
rid  of  them ;  and  I  suspect  old  Fox  is  one  of  that  kind. 
Perhaps  Crewdson  has  money.  I  shouldn't  wonder.  It 
generally  falls  to  the  lot  of  wooden-headed  mummies  to 
get  all  they  want.  Now,  if  I  had  a  decent  income,  I'd 
snap  my  fingers  at  the  world  and  marry  whom  I  please ; 
as  it  is,  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  don't  see  that  I  am 
to  blame  now,  because  I  have  offered  to  give  up  every- 
thing for  her,  and  she  won't  have  me.  She  says  that  her 
father  wouldn't  give  his  consent,  and  that  she  would 
not  ask  him.  I  can't  do  more  than  that,  and,  as  Egerton 
says,  it's  no  use  making  the  child  discontented.  I  be- 
lieve I  shall  feel  the  breaking  off  more  than  she  will,  but 
it  is  as  much  for  her  sake  as  for  my  own;  she  says  we 
could  not  be  happy."  And  then  Captain  Verschoyle  dis- 
contentedly flung  his  boots  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 


326  DOROTHY   FOX 

and  himself  into  a  chair,  exclaiming,  "  I'm  a  terribly  un- 
lucky fellow  in  love-affairs.  Whenever  hearts  are  trumps 
I'm  safe  to  hold  a  bad  hand." 

While  Captain  Verschoyle  indulged  in  these  reflections 
Dorothy  was  engaged  in  the  difficult  task  of  telling  Aunt 
Abigail  that  she  no  longer  thought  of  marrying  Josiah 
Crewdson.  She  feared  her  father  would  be  disappointed, 
but  she  found  it  impossible.  Aunt  Abigail  was  not  in 
any  way  surprised,  as,  notwithstanding  all  Josiah's  good 
qualities,  his  appearance  and  manners  were  decidedly 
against  him.  In  vain,  however,  did  she  try  to  discover 
any  new  lover  who  had  driven  the  old  one  from  her 
niece's  mind.  Dorothy  kept  guard  over  her  lips,  and  not 
until  she  was  alone  did  she  permit  herself  to  review  the 
event  of  the  day.  The  sweetest  words  echoed  in  her 
memory  were  those  of  Charles  Verschoyle  when  he  said 
that  he  would  give  up  anything  for  her  sake,  even  his 
profession,  and  that  he  would  try  and  be  a  Friend.  Oh, 
if  he  would  do  that  her  father  could  not  say  no ;  it  would 
not  be  right  of  him  to  refuse  without  a  just  cause.  And 
thinking  over  all  he  had  told  her,  she  tried  to  stifle  her 
conscience  and  to  reconcile  with  her  principles  what  she 
had  done.  She  was  not  quite  easy  about  Kezia  Crewd- 
son, and  shuddered  to  think  of  her  having  seen  them. 
"  I  will  tell  father  that  I  did  not  act  rightly,"  she  thought, 
"  and  how  sorry  I  was  after.  I  do  not  deserve  the  hap- 
piness which  I  trust  is  yet  in  store  for  me." 

The  following  morning  Dorothy  tried  to  persuade  her- 
self that  she  was  really  very  tired,  and  unable  to  accom- 
pany her  aunt  during  her  usual  walk.  Nevertheless,  as 
she  sat  alone  she  started  up  and  listened  nervously  to 
every  ring  of  the  bell,  as  if  expecting  a  visitor,  until  Jane 
announced  Captain  Verschoyle.  He  had  brought  Miss 
Fletcher  some  flowers,  he  said,  and  wanted  to  know  if 


DOROTHY   FOX  327 

Dorothy  had  any  message  for  her  sister,  as  he  was  un- 
expectedly recalled  to  London.  All  this  was  told  while 
Jane  was  in  the  room ;  but  as  soon  as  she  had  left  it  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle  seated  himself  nearer  to  Dorothy,  say- 
ing, "  It  is  so  annoying,  just  when  I  wanted  to  stay  with 
you;  but  I  shall  be  gone  only  a  few  days,  and  you  will, 
of  course,  be  here  when  I  return?" 

"  I  don't  know — perhaps  so,"  she  answered,  trying  not 
to  betray  her  anguish  at  hearing  him  speak  of  going 
away. 

Now,  in  this  Captain  Verschoyle  was  acting  contrary 
to  his  nature,  which  was  sincere  and  honourable  of  its 
kind ;  but  his  bringing  up  could  not  be  thrown  aside  in  a 
day.  Although  love  was  undermining  the  fabric  of  self- 
ishness and  pride  which  contact  with  the  world  had  built 
up  within  him,  every  now  and  then  his  training  rebelled 
and  his  temper  suffered.  This  made  him  say,  somewhat 
sharply,  "  Really,  you  seem  indifferent  on  the  subject.  I 
fancied  it  might  be  of  some  slight  importance  to  you." 

"  Charles,  what  dost  thou  mean  ?"  she  said,  looking  at 
him  surprised  and  sorrowful. 

"  Why,"  he  answered,  working  himself  into  a  heat  and 
glad  to  find  some  one  on  whom  to  fling  a  portion  of  the 
accusing  burden  which  tormented  him,  "  I  mean  that  it 
is  very  hard  upon  a  man,  after  having  given  all  his  love, 
to  find  that  he  has  no  influence.  Of  course,  I  should  not 
ask  you  to  disobey  your  father  when  doing  so  would 
make  you  miserable,  but  I  hardly  expected  to  find  that 
you  had  determined  to  give  up  nothing  for  me." 

"  But  thou  saidst  that  for  me  thou  wouldst  give  up 
being  a  soldier." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it ;  /  am  to  give  up  everything  for  you, 
but  you  give  up  nothing  in  return.  My  profession,  in 
spite  of  all  you  may  have  been  taught  to  the  contrary,  is 


328  DOROTHY   FOX 

an  honourable  one,  and  so  dear  to  me  that  no  woman 
who  truly  loved  me  would  desire  me  to  make  such  a 
sacrifice  for  her  sake." 

Dorothy  did  not  turn  her  white  face  towards  him  as 
she  said,  "  Then  thou  didst  not  mean  what  thou  saidst 
yesterday  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  meant  it,  and  mean  it  still,  if  you  insist." 

*'  No ;  I  have  no  thought  of  insisting.  We  will  forget 
yesterday  and  will  do  what  I  always  knew  to  be  right. 
Thou  and  I  are  different  in  every  way.  It  was  no  fault 
of  thine  that  I  loved  thee.  I  could  not  help  it;  but  I 
should  have  striven  against  it,  and  then  all  this  would 
not  have  happened." 

By  this  time  Captain  Verschoyle  was  not  only  enraged 
with  himself,  but  also  with  Dorothy.  He  had  come 
there  with  the  intention  of  announcing  his  departure, 
and  had  pictured  Dorothy's  distress  at  hearing  of  it.  He 
had  said  to  himself  that  while  he  was  trying  to  soothe 
and  comfort  her  perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  strive  with 
gentle  tenderness  to  show  her  how  impossible  it  was  for 
him  to  give  up  his  profession,  and  if  she  were  certain 
that  her  father  would  not  give  his  consent  to  their  mar- 
riage, why,  it  would  be  useless  to  ask  it.  Though  it 
broke  both  their  hearts,  he  supposed  they  must  part,  and, 
once  apart,  it  would  be  easier  for  each  to  forget. 

Dorothy,  by  making  the  proposal  herself,  without  wait- 
ing for  all  those  caresses  which  were  to  dull  the  pain  of 
separation,  had  overthrown  this  plan,  to  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle's  great  annoyance.  He  said  all  the  reproachful 
things  he  could  to  her,  and  while  she  sat  listening,  still 
and  motionless,  he  had  a  desire  to  shake  her  as  he  would 
do  a  refractory  child.  Finally  saying  that  they  were  evi- 
dently in  no  mood  for  companionship,  he  took  up  his 
hat,  and,  wishing  her  "  Good-morning,"  dashed  out  of 


DOROTHY   FOX  329 

the  room.  And  then,  with  the  inconsistency  of  a  lover, 
he  waited  to  see  if  she  would  not  come  after  him  im- 
ploring the  forgiveness  he  was  longing  now  to  give  her. 
His  heart  smote  him  sharply  as  he  thought  that  perhaps 
the  dear  little  thing  was  crying.  What  a  horrid  temper 
he  had !  He  would  go  back  and  tell  her  he  never  meant 
her  to  believe  one  word  that  he  had  said.  And  it  would 
be  so  delicious  to  know  that  she  could  not  part  in  that 
way,  and  to  hear  her  asking  to  be  forgiven.  He  was 
tempted  to  try.  He  would  open  the  outer  door,  and  if 
that  did  not  bring  her  to  him  he  would  go  back  immedi- 
ately. So,  putting  this  thought  into  execution>  he  with 
some  unnecessary  clatter  opened  the  house  door,  and 
then  gave  vent  to  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  for  on  the 
step  stood  Josiah  Crewdson. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

SECRET   UNEASINESS 

On  the  Thursday  following  that  on  which  Dorothy 
had  left  Fryston  Grange,  Nathaniel  Fox  walked  to 
King's-heart  in  a  state  of  great  mental  excitement  and 
perturbation. 

Patience  was  sitting  in  the  little  morning  room  when 
her  husband  entered,  and  one  glance  at  his  face  told  her 
that  something  of  importance  had  gone  wrong.  He 
looked  round,  and  thinking  they  might  be  overheard 
by  the  gardener,  who  was  working  near  the  window, 
and  by  Lydia,  who  was  engaged  in  the  dining-room,  he 
said,^ — 

"  Patience,  I  desire  to  speak  to  thee.    Come  up-stairs." 

She  obeyed,  following  Nathaniel  into  their  own  room, 
the  door  of  which  he  shut.  Then,  turning  round  so  as 
to  face  his  wife,  he  demanded, — 

"  Haven't  I  heard  thee  speak  of  Charles  Verschoyle  ? 
Who  is  this  young  man  ?" 

"  He  is  the  person  who  fainted  once  in  the  shop  at 
Plymouth.  He  afterwards  came  here  to  thank  me,  or 
rather  Judith,  whom  he  took  for  me,  for  my  kind  atten- 
tion to  him.  When  Dorothy  and  I  went  to  London  we 
met  him  accidentally  at  the  railway  station.  As  I  told 
thee,  he  took  care  of  us  till  Grace  arrived.  She,  think- 
ing he  was  a  friend  of  ours,  invited  him  to  dinner,  and  at 
Fryston  we  met  again.    Why  dost  thou  ask  ?" 

Nathaniel  took  no  notice  of  his  wife's  question,  but 
walked  up  and  down  in  deep  meditation  while  she  sat 
330 


DOROTHY   FOX  331 

waiting  for  the  reply  which  she  knew  would  come.    At 
last,  stopping  before  her,  he  said, — 

"  Something  has  occurred  to-day  which  never  hap- 
pened in  our  family  before,  Patience.  I  have  been  taken 
to  task,  rebuked,  and  admonished  concerning  my  conduct 
and  the  conduct  of  my  daughter." 

"  Nathaniel !"  exclaimed  Patience.  "  For  what  rea- 
son?" 

"  Joshua  Prideaux  came  to  me  to-day  and  asked  to 
have  some  private  talk  with  me.  He  then  showed  me  a 
letter  from  John  Millar,  of  Leeds,  stating  that  it  was  with 
much  pain  and  surprise  that  he  informed  him  that  I,  Na- 
thaniel Fox,  had  dealt  in  an  underhand  and  unfriendly 
way  with  Josiah  Crewdson.  Because  that  while  I  was 
allowing  him  to  suppose  that  my  daughter  would  one  day 
become  his  wife,  I  had  already  given  my  consent  to  her 
marrying  Charles  Verschoyle,  a  man  who  is  a  soldier. 
Now,  Patience,  hast  thou  heard  anything  of  this  ?  What 
does  it  mean?"  And  Nathaniel's  stern  face  seemed  to 
darken  with  the  inward  resentment  which  such  a  scandal 
aroused. 

"  I  am  as  much  amazed  as  thou  art,  dear.  Who  can 
have  made  such  an  imputation  upon  us?" 

"  That  is  the  extraordinary  part.  Josiah  Crewdson 
told  his  sisters  so  in  justification  of  Durothy's  unwar- 
rantable behaviour  to  this  man  while  she  was  staying  at 
Holberton." 

"  Nathaniel !"  said  Patience,  "  doth  not  this  show  thee 
the  falsehood  of  the  whole  thing?  Our  Dorothy  behave 
in  an  unseemly  manner,  and  Josiah  Crewdson  obliged  to 
screen  her !"  And  Patience  smiled  in  her  incredulity  and 
staunch  belief  in  her  child's  rectitude. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied,  "  I  know  something  is  false. 
Why,  Patience,  if  I  thought  that  in  one  month  my  child 


332  DOROTHY   FOX 

could  forget  her  training,  principles,  and  obedience  to 
us,  I'd " 

But  Patience  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Hush,  dear,"  she  said ;  "parents  with  as  little  ex- 
pectation of  a  trial  as  we  ourselves  have  had  one.  I  be- 
lieve nothing  against  Dorothy.  But  if  the  time  ever  came 
when  we  must,  we  would,  I  know,  try  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  a  Father  who  is  ever  tender  towards  erring 
children." 

But  Nathaniel  seemed  not  to  hear.  He  shook  her 
hand  off  and  continued  his  moody  walk. 

"  I  shall  write  to  Josiah  and  to  Grace,"  he  said,  "  and 
thou  hadst^better  tell  thy  sister  Abigail  that  Dorothy  must 
come  home  at  once.  If  such  reports  as  these  are  being 
circulated,  it  is  better  that  she  were  under  our  own  eyes. 
Oh,  why  did  we  let  her  go  there.  Patience  ?  The  girl  was 
happy  and  contented  and  would  have  continued  so  until 
a  worthy  man  took  her  for  his  wife.  I  was  overruled,  but 
I  doubted  my  judgment.  I  knew  that  the  world,  with  its 
snares  and  pitfalls,  was  no  place  for  an  innocent  girl." 

"  Thy  theory  is  wrong,  as  I  often  tell  thee,"  said  Pa- 
tience, hoping  to  divert  his  mind  by  argument.  "  Thou 
art  ever  confounding  ignorance  and  innocence,  both  of 
which  may  exist  without  the  other.  If  I  have  any  fear 
for  Dorothy,  it  is  because  she  has  never  been  shown  many 
things  which  might  serve  to  guard  her  against  herself." 

Nathaniel  shook  his  head. 

"  What  sort  of  a  person  is  this  young  man  Verschoyle  ?" 

"  He  is  not  a  very  young  man.  He  looks  older  than 
he  is,  perhaps,  by  being  bronzed  with  the  sun.  He  has 
a  very  winning,  kindly  manner,  and  I  think  I  might  say 
he  would  do  nothing  dishonourable." 

"  Dishonourable !"  echoed  Nathaniel,  contemptuously ; 
"  that,  probably,  means  that  he  may  be  godless,  immoral, 


DOROTHY   FOX  333 

and  unprincipled,  so  long  as  he  does  not  break  rules  set 
up  by  libertines  like  himself." 

"  Thou  art  judging  with  undue  harshness,  Nathaniel. 
I  know  nothing  of  Charles  Verschoyle  beyond  exchanging 
the  passing  civilities  of  every-day  life  with  him.  But  it 
would  not  be  fair  to  receive  civilities  from  all  denomina- 
tions and  yet  believe  that  good  motives  could  only  dwell 
in  members  of  our  own  Society." 

But  Nathaniel  was  too  thoroughly  annoyed  to  listen 
calmly  to  anything  like  reason  from  his  wife.  He  could 
not  bear  to  think  that  a  man  like  Joshua  Prideaux  should 
have  it  in  his  power  to  administer  a  rebuke  to  him  and 
take  him  to  task  as  he  had  done  for  permitting  his  daugh- 
ter to  be  the  engaged  wife  of  a  soldier.  He  permit  such 
a  thing,  when  he  had  invariably  used  every  effort  to  sup- 
port all  peace  movements  and  to  discourage  war!  And 
this  the  Society  both  at  Leeds  and  Plymouth  well  knew. 
So  he  wrote  to  Josiah  Crewdson,  demanding  infor- 
mation respecting  all  that  he  had  been  charged  with.  He 
also  wrote  to  Grace,  desiring  to  know  what  intimacy  ex- 
isted between  Dorothy  and  Charles  Verschoyle,  and 
whether  she  knew  where  the  young  man  then  was. 

Patience  wrote  a  long  and  guarded  letter  to  Dorothy, 
telling  her  that  she  had  better  return  home  at  once,  and 
another  letter  to  her  sister  Abigail,  informing  her  a  little 
more  fully  of  her  secret  uneasiness. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 
THE  Quaker's  quixotic  love 

Nathaniel  Fox's  letter  being  directed  to  Holberton 
Hall,  with  a  view  to  Josiah  reading  it  to  his  sisters,  he  did 
not  receive  it  before  he  left  for  York.  His  visit  to  Doro- 
thy, therefore,  only  proceeded  from  Josiah's  own  fears, 
rather  than  from  any  knowledge  of  what  was  taking 
place. 

When  Captain  Verschoyle  so  unexpectedly  opened  Abi- 
gail Fletcher's  door,  Josiah  fancied  the  whole  matter  was 
settled.  He  wondered  at  seeing  Dorothy  run  up-stairs 
without  paying  any  attention  to  either  of  them.  He  said 
he  hoped  Captain  Verschoyle  was  well,  and  informed 
him  that  they  were  having  seasonable  weather.  His  ner- 
vous loquacity  being  stopped  by  Captain  Verschoyle  ask- 
ing him  somewhat  sharply  if  he  were  "  going  in,"  Josiah 
jumped  on  one  side. 

"  Oh,  thanks,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  impatiently, 
"  because  I  am  going  out.  Good-morning."  And  the 
gallant  officer  walked  away,  anathematizing  Quakers  gen- 
erally, and  "  that  fool  Crewdson"  in  particular. 

Josiah  lingered  about,  and  finally  went  into  the  room 
which  Dorothy  had  vacated  and  waited  for  her  to  come 
down-stairs.  His  mind  was  filled  with  sickening  anxiety 
lest  Aunt  Abigail  should  return.  Captain  Verschoyle, 
hoping  that  Josiah  might  take  the  hint,  having  said  she 
was  out.  Once  or  twice  he  got  up  to  ring  the  bell,  but 
sat  down  again.  At  length,  when  he  had  quite  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  send  word  that  he  was  there  and 
334 


DOROTHY   FOX  335 

could  not  stay  long,  Dorothy  appeared,  saying  that  she 
feared  she  had  exhausted  his  patience,  but  Josiah  de- 
clared she  had  not  in  the  least  done  so.  Then  they  in- 
dulged in  a  little  irrelevant  conversation,  until  Josiah, 
feeling  that  he  could  no  longer  delay  what  he  had  come 
purposely  to  announce,  suddenly  got  up,  looked  out  of 
the  window,  and  then  returned  to  his  place  to  say, — 

"  Oh,  Dorothy !  I  suppose  thou  hast  altered  thy  mind?" 

"  How  ?"  For  Dorothy  was  in  no  talking  mood.  She 
was  in  the  dull  state  of  grief  when  everything  is  heard 
and  done  with  an  effort,  inducing  one  to  sit  still,  silent 
and  stunned. 

"  I  mean  that  I  met  Charles  Verschoyle  at  the  door, 

so  I  thought  that  perhaps Oh,  Dorothy,  do  not 

mind  telling  me.  Thou  hast  changed  thy  mind  and  wilt 
marry  him ;  is  it  not  so?" 

"  No." 

"  But  he  has  written  to  thy  father.  Thou  wilt  tell  him 
of  it?" 

Dorothy  shook  her  head. 

Poor  Josiah !  He  wondered  what  he  should  do.  How 
could  he  inform  her  that  Kezia  had  told  him  of  the 
scene  which  she  had  witnessed  in  the  drawing-room? 
More  than  that,  how  could  he  tell  her  that  his  sisters 
had  made  it  their  business  to  spread  among  Friends  the 
report  of  Dorothy  Fox's  engagement  to  a  soldier,  while 
they  and  their  brother  regarded  her  as  his  future  wife? 
Nathaniel  would  be  certain  to  tax  her  with  it,  and  was 
it  not  better  that  she  should  be  in  some  way  prepared? 

"  Dorothy,"  he  began  again — and  he  drew  an  imaginary 
pattern  on  the  carpet  with  his  foot  that  she  might  be 
quite  certain  he  was  not  looking  at  her — "  Kezia,  it  seems, 
looked  at  thee  through  the  window." 

Dorothy  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  pain. 


336  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Oh,  thou  wilt  not  mind  me,  Dorothy,"  he  added, 
quickly.  "  I  did  not  listen  to  what  she  said,  only  sisters 
made  a  great  deal  of  it.  They  are  not  like  we  are,  thou 
knowest,  and  they  thought  I  should  speak  to  thy  father ; 
and  so  I  said  that  he  knew  it,  as  Charles  Verschoyle  was 
to  be  thy  husband.  I  did  not  know  what  to  say,  and  I 
knew  he  would  ask  thy  father  for  thee." 

"  Oh,  will  they  tell  father  ?"  said  Dorothy,  piteously. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so,  only  he  may  hear  what  I  said." 

"  Why  didst  thou  say  so,  Josiah  ?  Oh,  what  shall  I 
do?  Father  will  never  forgive  me!  Oh,  Josiah,  do 
help  me!" 

This  appeal  seemed  to  nerve  Josiah  to  the  utmost. 
"  Dorothy,"  he  said,  "  thou  knowest  that  whatever  I  did 
for  thee  I  did  it  thinking  it  the  best  thing  to  do.  I 
thought  perhaps  thou  hadst  changed  thy  mind.  As  it  is, 
if  Charles  Verschoyle  has  not  asked  thy  father  he  will 
do  so  now,  though  he  and  thou  shouldst  both  refuse 
him." 

"  I  shall  not  see  him  again,"  she  said.  "  He  was  angry 
to-day  because  I  knew  father  would  refuse,  and  so  he 
left  me."  And  the  fresh  grief,  pressing  on  old  sorrows 
newly  awakened,  Dorothy  broke  down,  declaring  she  de- 
served it  all.  "  I  have  forgotten  everything  and  deceived 
every  one,"  she  cried — "  father,  and  him,  and  thee,  and 
now  I  must  bear  the  punishment."  And,  in  her  shame 
and  grief,  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Josiah  entreated  her  not  to  give  way.  He  was  certain, 
he  said,  that  he  could  prevent  her  father  from  being 
very  angry,  but  she  had  better  let  Charles  Verschoyle 
write  to  him. 

Not  knowing  Josiah's  reasons  for  urging  this,  Dorothy 
declared  such  a  thing  to  be  impossible,  as  she  had  given 
Captain    Verschoyle    her    decision,    and    they    had,    she 


DOROTHY   FOX  337^ 

feared,  parted  for  good.  Aunt  Abigail's  voice  was  now 
heard,  and  Dorothy  had  only  time  to  run  away,  fearing 
that  her  eyes,  red  with  weeping,  might  attract  her  aunt's 
attention. 

When  she  again  made  her  appearance  she  complained 
of  a  headache,  and  Aunt  Abigail,  coupling  her  silence 
and  depression  with  Josiah's  visit,  concluded  that  he  had 
been  further  urging  his  suit.  He  remained  to  an  early 
dinner  with  them,  and  vainly  endeavoured  to  speak  again 
to  Dorothy.  But  Aunt  Abigail,  having  made  up  her  mind 
that  the  dear  child  should  not  be  worried  any  further, 
gave  him  no  opportunity,  and  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
them,  still  uncertain  how  he  should  act  for  the  best. 

Josiah  was  quite  aware  of  Dorothy's  position,  and  how 
her  conduct  would  be  viewed  among  Friends.  She  would 
be  regarded  henceforth  as  a  forward,  frivolous  girl,  un- 
worthy to  be  trusted,  and  not  properly  endowed  with 
maidenly  reserve.  This  would  be  the  opinion  of  the  most 
charitable,  but  those  who  lacked  the  chief  Christian  virtue 
would  probably  not  spare  her  in  thought  and  word ;  and 
to  a  proud  man  like  Nathaniel  this  scandal  would  be 
bitter  indeed.  How  could  it  be  lessened?  A  brilliant 
idea  entered  Josiah's  mind.  Surely,  if  Charles  Ver- 
schoyle  loved  Dorothy  as  well  as  he  did,  he  would  be 
equally  anxious  that  no  breath  of  scandal  should  dim 
the  purity  of  her  actions.  Josiah  felt  that  he  could  ex- 
plain the  whole  circumstances  to  him,  and  ask  him  to 
write  to  Nathaniel.  Her  father  would  then  screen  Doro- 
thy by  saying  that  his  consent  had  been  asked  to  her 
marriage,  but  that  he  had  withheld  it  on  account  of  dif- 
ference of  principles. 

Many  men  would  have  sneered  at  the  young  Quaker's 
Quixotic  love.  They  would  have  doubted  its  existence, 
perhaps,  and  considered  that  to  have  seen  the  girl  who 

23 


338  DOROTHY   FOX 

had  refused  him  well  served  out  would  be  sweeter  re- 
venge than  trying  to  spare  her  anxiety  or  sorrow.  But 
this  was  not  Josiah's  nature ;  he  had  always  thought  that 
Dorothy  would  find  it  hard  to  love  him,  and  he  cared  for 
her  none  the  less  because  his  fears  now  had  been  realised. 
True,  he  did  not  go  through  all  these  interviews  and  com- 
munings with  himself  without  many  a  sad  heartache  and 
regret;  but  even  these  did  not  make  him  feel  bitter  to 
her.  If  a  slight  shadow  ever  had  come  over  him,  one  look 
at  her  had  charmed  it  away.  Captain  Verschoyle,  how- 
ever, acted  on  him  in  a  contrary  manner;  his  presence 
caused  flames  of  anger  and  hatred  to  spring  up  from  the 
ashes  which  only  smouldered  within  Josiah's  breast.  So 
it  was  no  easy  task  to  seek  a  meeting  with  him.  Josiah 
was  certain  that  in  the  presence  of  his  rival  he  should  feel 
awkward  and  be  unable  properly  to  explain  his  errand. 
Still,  it  seemed  the  best  thing  for  him  to  do.  He  spent 
several  hours  in  deciding  one  thing,  and  then  changing 
his  mind,  going  half-way  to  the  station  and  turning  back, 
walking  some  little  distance,  regretting  his  decision,  and 
making  a  second  and  fruitless  attempt  to  catch  a  train 
which  had  almost  started  as  he  began  running.  At  length 
he  made  a  desperate  resolution,  and  arrived  at  Darington 
just  before  dinner. 

Captain  Verschoyle  and  Mr.  Egerton  had  just  come  in 
after  a  long  ride,  and  were  discussing  the  necessity  of 
attending  to  Lady  Laura's  summons. 

"  I  cannot  think  what  they  mean,"  said  the  younger  man. 

"  Mean !"  replied  Mr.  Egerton ;  "  nothing ;  no  woman 
ever  does;  they  are  tired  of  quarrelling  together,  and 
want  you  to  join  them.    Take  my  advice,  and  don't." 

"  I  left  them  like  turtle-doves,"  said  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle, "  on  account  of  Audrey  having  determined  to 
sacrifice  herself  to  that  old  Ford  I  told  you  of.    Well,  I 


DOROTHY   FOX  339 

shall  not  go  to-morrow ;  I'll  write  to  my  mother  and  ask 
her  what  she  means.    I  don't  want  to  leave  now." 

"  No,"  said  the  old  man,  slyly ;  "  tell  her  that  Fox- 
hunting is  just  beginning." 

Captain  Verschoyle  would  not  understand  the  allusion, 
and  his  companion  continued,  "  Capital  sport,  but  the  best 
men  get  a  cropper  sometimes." 

"  Ah,  well !"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle,  bent  on  re- 
maining ignorant,  "there's  not  much  fear  of  me;  I'm 
an  old  hand." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Charlie "  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  man  opening  the  door  and  saying  to  Cap- 
tain Verschoyle,  "  If  you  please,  sir,  there's  a  gentleman 
in  the  library  as  wishes  to  see  you ;  he  told  me  to  say 
Josiah  Crewdson." 

Mr.  Egerton  gave  a  long  whistle.  "  I'll  be  your  sec- 
ond, Charlie,  if  he's  come  in  a  bloodthirsty  spirit,"  he 
said ;  "  or  if  he  only  wants  a  peaceable  fight,  tell  him  I'll 
have  a  round  with  him  while  you're  getting  your  wind, 
for  I  fear  the  little  chap's  more  than  a  match  for  you." 
But  Captain  Verschoyle  paid  no  attention  to  this  sally; 
he  only  sat  for  an  instant  frowning,  and  then  meditatively 
asked,  "  Now,  what  can  he  want  with  me  ?" 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

TWO   WAYS   OF   LOOKING   AT   IT 

Dinner  had  been  served  and  Mr.  Egerton  was  half 
through  his  soup  before  Captain  Verschoyle  made  his 
appearance. 

"  You  must  pardon  me  for  being  late,  sir,"  he  said, 
with  a  look  on  his  countenance  which  checked  the  banter 
in  which  his  old  friend  had  been  about  to  indulge. 

Captain  Verschoyle  several  times  during  dinner 
broached  topics  of  conversation,  but  with  such  an  effort 
that  they  invariably  broke  down.  At  length,  when  they 
had  drawn  up  to  the  fire,  and  there  was  no  chance  of 
being  disturbed,  the  old  man  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  his 
companion's  shoulder,  saying,  "  What's  the  matter, 
Charlie  ?  has  anything  gone  wrong  ?" 

Captain  Verschoyle  gazed  gloomily  into  the  fire,  as  he 
answered, — 

"  No,  nothing  has  gone  wrong,  only  Mr.  Crewdson  has 
just  shown  me  that  I  am  a  cowardly  scoundrel." 

"  Ah !  I've  had  the  same  idea  myself,"  growled  Mr. 
Egerton ;  then,  raising  his  voice,  he  added,  "  but,  con- 
found his  impudence,  he  needn't  come  here  to  tell  you 
that." 

"  I  have  been  sneering  at  that  man  since  ever  I  saw 
him,"  continued  Captain  Verschoyle,  speaking  to  himself, 
and  giving  no  heed  to  Mr.  Egerton's  remarks.  "  I  thought 
him  one  of  the  biggest  fools  in  the  world.  I  scarcely 
thought  him  worthy  of  common  civility,  and  turned  up 
my  eyes  at  the  bare  idea  of  any  woman  bestowing  a 
340 


DOROTHY   FOX  341 

thought  on  him.  Now,  if  any  one  asked  me  to  name  a 
man  of  honour  and  a  gentleman,  I'd  say  Josiah  Crewd- 
son." 

"  Why,  what  for  ?"  said  Mr.  Egerton,  in  considerable 
amazement. 

Captain  Verschoyle  suddenly  jumped  up,  pushed  his 
chair  aside,  and  exclaimed,  "  I've  been  a  coward,  a  villain, 
a  scoundrel.  You  know,  sir,  it's  all  about  Miss  Fox. 
Almost  from  the  first  time  I  saw  her  I  cared  for  her  more 
than  I  had  ever  done  for  any  other  girl.  I  tried  all  I 
could  to  make  her  think  about  me,  and  I  wasn't  at  peace 
until  I  was  sure  she  loved  me ;  and  then  I  thought  I  had 
done  a  foolish  thing,  and  must  get  out  of  it.  I  came  to 
you,  but  I  persuaded  her  to  go  to  York.  And  because  she 
didn't  arrive  there  the  very  day  I  expected  her  I,  re- 
gardless of  consequences  to  her,  went  off  to  Leeds  to  see 
her.  Mr.  Crewdson's  sisters,  thinking  she  was  going  to 
marry  their  brother,  did  not  approve  of  this,  and  said 
a  great  deal.  I  can't  quite  explain  it,  but  it  seems  that 
if  a  young  lady  of  their  persuasion  receives  a  visit  from 
a  soldier  it  in  some  way  compromises  her.  And,  though 
she  had  the  day  before  refused  young  Crewdson,  by  Jove, 
sir!  he  was  plucky  enough  to  defend  her  when  she  was 
attacked  by  his  sisters,  saying  that  I  had  her  father's 
consent  and  was  going  to  marry  her."    - 

"  Well,  but  wasn't  it  true?" 

"  True  ?  no,  I  was  playing  a  game  of  fast  and  loose 
with  her.  I  pretended  that  I  wanted  to  marry  her,  and 
that  she  was  treating  me  very  hardly  because  she  dared 
not  disobey  her  father,  whose  consent  she  was  sure  would 
never  be  given ;  and  all  the  time  I  wanted  to  get  out  of 
it.  I  never  intended  to  marry  her.  I  knew  I  loved  her 
better  than  all  the  world,  but  my  pride  wouldn't  allow  me 
to  make  her  my  wife." 


342  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  Of  course  not,  as  you  said  yourself,  the  very  idea  is 
absurd.  Why,  you  told  me  her  father  kept  a  shop,"  said 
Mr.  Egerton. 

"  Absurd  or  not,  I  intend  doing  it." 

"  You  do  ?"  roared  the  old  man  in  his  gruffest  voice. 
"  You'll  surely  never  make  such  a  fool  of  yourself.  Why 
should  you?  Who'll  be  the  wiser,  except  a  few  out-of- 
the-way  people,  who,  if  they  made  their  appearance 
among  your  set,  would  be  laughed  at.  Nonsense,  Charlie, 
you'll  think  better  of  it." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  firmly.  "  One 
reason  is,  that  I  never  rested  until  I  had  destroyed  the 
peace  of  her  innocent  life,  and  caused  her  to  reject  a  man 
who  is  a  hundred  times  more  worthy  of  her  than  I  am. 
Another  is,  that  I  love  her  with  all  my  abominably  selfish 
heart.  And  don't  think,  sir,  all  this  is  caused  by  young 
Crewdson's  visit;  before  he  came  I  felt  I  couldn't  part 
with  her,  and  intended  seeing  her  to-morrow." 

"  You'll  be  cut,"  said  Mr.  Egerton,  nodding  his  head 
sententiously ;  "  nobody  will  receive  her,  and  all  your 
relations  will  turn  their  backs  upon  you." 

"  Let  them,  it's  very  little  good  they  ever  did  me,  ex- 
cept patronise  me  and  make  me  discontented." 

"  You'll  require  to  leave  your  regiment.  You  can't 
stay  there,  you  know ;  and  then  good-bye  to  all  your 
visions  of  military  glory." 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  that,  but " 

"  But  you  are  determined  to  be  an  ass,"  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  sneer ;  "  and  for  whom  ?  The  baby- faced 
daughter  of  a  country  shopkeeper.    Pshaw !" 

Captain  Verschoyle  turned  scarlet,  and  then  grew  pale 
as  he  said,  with  his  face  to  Mr.  Egerton, — 

"  Perhaps  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  have 
now  reached  the  limit  of  my  forbearance.     If  Miss  Fox 


DOROTHY   FOX  343 

will  honour  me  with  her  hand,  I  shall  be  as  proud  of 
being  her  husband  as  if  she  were  the  daughter  of  a  duke. 
And  when  she  is  my  wife,  /  will  take  care  that  no  one 
treats  her  with  less  respect  than  they  would  if  the  bluest 
blood  in  England  flowed  in  her  veins." 

Mr.  Egerton  jumped  up  and  slapped  his  godson  on 
the  back. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Charlie,  for  I'm  proud  of  you," 
he  cried.  "  The  world  hasn't  spoiled  you  yet,  my  boy, 
and  you're  worthy  of  your  father's  name.  As  for  young 
Crewdson,  here's  three  cheers  for  him,  and  good  luck 
to  him  next  time.  He's  a  Briton,  that  fellow,  though  he 
is  a  Quaker." 

There  was  some  further  giving  way  to  their  mutual 
good  feelings,  and  then  Mr.  Egerton  said, — 

"  Come  now,  let  us  have  up  some  more  wine,  and  then 
we'll  settle  to  business,  for  we  have  forgotten  one  very 
important  point;"  and  making  an  inexpressibly  droll  face, 
he  said,  "  How  about  your  mother  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  thought  about  her,  and  I  see  no  way  of 
managing  her.  Of  course  the  Hanburys  will  consider  I 
have  acted  unfairly  to  them  as  well  as  to  Dorothy,  and 
will  feel  keenly  any  slight  my  mother  might  put  upon 
her." 

"  Humph !  I  don't  often  take  a  scheme  in  hand,  and 
it's  many  a  year  since  I  tackled  her  ladyship;  but  we 
have  had  tilts  before  now,  and  I  have  not  always  come  off 
second  best.  What  do  you  say,  will  you  trust  your  cause 
to  me?" 

"  Most  thankfully." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  explain  my  tactics,  but  I'll  do  my  best 
to  show  my  talent  as  a  diplomatist." 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughed  heartily  at  the  idea  of  the 
encounter.     "  I   shall  go  and  see  Dorothy  to-morrow 


344  DOROTHY   FOX 

morning,"  he  said,  "  and  after  that  I  shall  decide  my 
movements.  I  hope,  after  all,  her  father  will  be  brought 
to  give  his  consent." 

"  Of  course  he  will,"  replied  Mr.  Egerton ;  "  and  after 
you  have  seen  the  young  lady  I  shall  call  upon  her  and 
Miss  Fletcher.  I'll  forgive  your  getting  married,  Charlie, 
since  she  is  not  one  of  those  town  madams  whose  hol- 
low shams  would  have  been  more  than  your  old  godfather 
could  have  swallowed.  She  has  a  sweet,  innocent  face, 
and  if  it  is  in  the  power  of  a  woman  to  make  a  man 
happy,  she  ought  to  do  it." 

Before  twelve  o'clock  the  following  day  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle  arrived  at  Miss  Fletcher's  house,  where  he  in- 
quired for  Miss  Fox. 

"  Please,  sir,  they're  gone,"  said  the  little  maid. 

"  Gone!"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,    "  Gone  where?" 

"  I  don't  know,  please,  sir ;  but  mistress  and  Miss 
Dorothy  went  away  an  hour  ago  to  the  train.  Perhaps 
you'd  like  to  see  Jane." 

So  Jane  came,  but  all  the  information  she  could  give 
was  that  a  letter  had  come  which  had  caused  them  to 
leave  unexpectedly,  and  she  rather  thought  Miss  Dorothy 
had  returned  home.  She  could  not  say  for  certain,  how- 
ever, as  mistress  did  not  say ;  she  only  told  her  she  would 
write  when  they  reached  their  journey's  end. 

Captain  Verschoyle  did  not  wait  to  hear  more;  he 
rushed  away,  hardly  stopping  to  draw  breath  until  he 
reached  the  station ;  but  the  London  train  had  gone.  He 
asked  one  or  two  of  the  porters  if  two  ladies — whom  he 
described — had  been  passengers  by  it,  and  one  man  said 
"  Yes,"  but  whether  they  were  going  to  London  or  not 
he  could  not  say. 

Captain  Verschoyle  returned  to  Darington,  consulted 
with  Mr.  Egerton,  wrote  ^  letter  to  Nathaniel  Fox,  and 


DOROTHY   FOX  345 

by  the  next  morning's  train  started  with  his  old  friend 
for  London. 

Mr.  Egerton  was  dropped  at  his  club,  but  Captain 
Verschoyle  went  on  to  Egmont  Street.  Her  ladyship  was 
in  her  own  room,  and  thither  her  son,  by  her  desire,  pro- 
ceeded to  see  her.  "  Why,  mother,  what's  the  matter  ?" 
he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  their  first  greetings  were  over 
and  they  were  alone.  "  I  expected  to  find  you  tearing 
your  hair  and  Audrey  in  a  strait-waistcoat.  Where  is 
she?" 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  her,  Charles !  and  lay  aside  all 
jesting,  for  I  assure  you  our  trouble  is  a  very  serious 
one." 

Captain  Verschoyle  looked  very  grave  as  he  drew  a 
chair  to  the  fire  and  sat  down,  prepared  to  listen  to  the 
domestic  tragedy.    "  What  has  she  been  doing  ?"  he  asked, 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  Charles,  all  I  have  sacrificed  for 
that  ungrateful  girl." 

"  No,  mother,"  quickly  interposed  her  son,  dreading  a 
repetition  of  the  oft-told  tale.  "  I  know  you  have  been 
very  good  to  us  both." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  can  never  understand  how  entirely  I 
have  forgotten  myself  for  her  sake.  You  remember  the 
new  dresses  I  gave  her  so  recently  to  go  to  Dyne  Court 
with,  and  the  trouble  I  had  to  get  an  invitation.  I  nearly 
asked  Mr.  Ford  for  it,  entirely  on  her  account;  for 
certainly  I  should  not  have  sought  to  be  the  guest  of  a 
man  who  had  probably  been  one  of  your  grandfather's 
tradespeople.  But  as  I  thought  it  was  to  secure  her  a 
good  establishment,  I  was  content.  The  man  paid  her 
the  greatest  attention,  and  she  seemed  delighted  with  her 
prospect,  and  quite  secure  of  the  match.  Suddenly,  ^nd 
apparently  without  any  reason,  she  informed  me  that  she 
could  not  marry  Mr.  Ford,  and  asked  me  to  take  her 


346  DOROTHY   FOX 

away.  Well,  off  we  went,  and  I  so  managed  that  the  old 
man  never  suspected  the  cause,  but  set  it  down  to  my 
nervous  fears  about  her  health.  Of  course,  I  tried  to  dis- 
cover her  reason  for  this  extraordinary  conduct,  and  I 
was  led  to  believe  it  was  owing  to  a  whim  of  which  she 
began  to  feel  rather  ashamed.  You  know  how  all  this 
would  try  my  nerves :  my  dear  boy,  I  assure  you  they  felt 
shattered.  When  your  Aunt  Spencer  asked  me  to  go  to 
Beauwood  for  a  few  days,  I  felt  it  was  a  duty  to  accept, 
and  went,  though  very  reluctantly.  And  would  you  be- 
lieve it,  Charles,  while  I  was  absent  Mr.  Ford  came  here, 
and  that  miserable  girl  refused  him.  He's  a  millionaire! 
— a  Croesus !  His  wealth  is  fabulous !  He  could  give  her 
anything  she  wished  for,  and  make  any  settlement  we 
chose  to  name;  and  she  absolutely  refused  to  marry 
him !" 

"  Well,  you  have  amazed  me !"  exclaimed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle ;  "  she  seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind  to  have 
the  old  fellow.    But  really,  mother " 

"  Wait.  You  have  not  heard  the  worst,"  interrupted 
Lady  Laura.    "  Let  me  give  you  her  reason." 

"  Oh !  there  is  a  reason  ?" 

"  Yes.  The  reason  is" — and  here  her  ladyship  bowed 
her  head  in  mock  obedience  to  her  daughter's  decision — 
"  that  she  has  accepted,  and  intends  to  become  the  wife 
of  that  poverty-stricken.  Quixotic  fellow,  Dynecourt." 

"  By  Jove !  You  don't  mean  that?  Audrey  marry 
Dynecourt.    Impossible !" 

"  It  shall  be,  if  I  can  make  it  so.  The  idea  of  the  man 
having  the  impertinence  to  propose  to  a  girl  like  Audrey, 
my  daughter,  on  an  income  of  six  hundred  a  year.  He 
came,  too,  with  as  much  assurance  as  if  it  had  been  sixty 
thousand.  I  think  I  rather  surprised  him.  I  did  not  spare 
them,  I  assure  you,  and  he  could  not  say  a  word,  but  sat 


DOROTHY   FOX  S47. 

looking  at  Audrey,  who,  with  great  want  of  delicacy, 
came  into  the  room  ten  minutes  after  he  arrived,  and 
said  she  desired  to  be  present." 

"  Well,  mother,  you  have  electrified  me !  Wonders  will 
never  cease!    Fancy  Audrey  marrying  for  love!" 

"  Good  gracious,  Charles !  is  that  the  way  you  take  it  ?" 
exclaimed  Lady  Laura.  "  Have  you  so  little  affection 
for  your  sister  that  you  can  calmly  allow  her  to  disgrace 
herself  by  marrying  a  man  who  can  only  give  her  a  poky 
house  in  a  bye  street  and  a  new  bonnet  once  a  year  ?" 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  mother.  You  know  Dynecourt 
comes  of  as  good  a  family  as  any  man  in  England,  and  as 
far  as  the  name  goes,  there's  not  a  woman  living  but 
might  be  proud  to  bear  it." 

"  May  I  ask  you  if  people  can  live  on  their  long  pedi- 
gree and  ancient  name?" 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  Audrey  and  Dynecourt  are  not 
wholly  dependent  on  these.  I  know  you  must  be  dis- 
appointed, mother,  because  you  have  always  hoped  so 
much  for  her.  And  I  would  rather  she  had  chosen  a 
man  who  was  able  to  give  her  what,  at  least,  she  has 
been  accustomed  to;  but  as  to  the  two  men,  although 
Ford  is  a  very  decent  fellow,  I  congratulate  myself  on 
my  exchange  of  brothers-in-law." 

"  Thank  you,  Charles,"  said  his  mother,  in  her  most 
severe  tone ;  "  I  might  have  known  if  there  was  any  way 
by  which  you  could  add  to  my  annoyance  you  would 
choose  it.  Why  I  should  trouble  myself  about  you  and 
Audrey  I  cannot  tell,  for  never  was  a  mother  so  utterly 
disregarded  and  scoffed  at." 

"  Don't  say  that,  for  you  know  it  is  not  true,  mother. 
But  if  you  and  I  were  to  talk  for  ever,  we  cannot  alter 
the  fact  that  Audrey  loves  this  man,  and  knowing  that, 
I  do  not  see  that  we  have  any  right  to  prevent  her  marry- 


348  DOROTHY   FOX 

ing  him  because  he  does  not  happen  to  have  as  much 
money  as  we  wish.  She  has  to  accept  the  wants  and  do 
without  the  kixuries,  and  if  she  is  content,  let  us  try  and 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  not  damp  all  the  poor  girl's 
happiness." 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind !"  exclaimed  Lady  Laura, 
passionately.  "  I  see  through  it  all.  Your  sister  and  you 
may  be  very  clever,  but  you  cannot  blind  me.  You  have 
been  laying  your  plans  together  to  wheedle  me  out  of  a 
trousseau  and  a  wedding  such  as  she  wants.  You  may 
both  save  yourselves  the  trouble,  for  I  assure  you,  if  she 
and  her  fine  lover  choose  to  marry,  they  can  do  so  when 
and  how  they  please,  but  not  one  farthing  do  they  get 
from  me." 

"  Come,  come,  mother,  you  don't  mean  that." 

"  Indeed,  Charles,  I  do  mean  it." 

"  What !  you  will  allow  your  only  daughter  to  leave 
her  home  as  if  she  had  no  one  in  the  world  to  care  for  her 
but  the  man  who  is  taking  her  from  it  ?" 

"  My  only  daughter  has  shown  no  more  consideration 
for  me  than  my  only  son." 

"  Oh !  very  well,  then  you  compel  me  to  take  my 
father's  place,"  replied  Captain  Verschoyle.  "  I  cannot 
give  her  much,  but  she  shall  have  as  good  an  outfit  as  I 
can  provide,  and  I  shall  take  apartments,  from  which 
she  can  be  properly  and  decently  married.  However, 
long  before  it  comes  to  this,  mother,  I  trust  your  good 
sense  and  right  feeling  will  return ;  just  now  you  are 
allowing  disappointment  to  get  the  better  of  you." 

"  Charles,  how  dare  you  speak  to  me  in  this  manner !" 
cried  Lady  Laura.  "  Oh !  nobody  else  can  have  two  such 
ungrateful,  unfeeling  children!"  and  she  took  refuge  in 
her  handkerchief. 

"  I  had  better  leave  you,  or  we  may  lose  our  tempers," 


DOROTHY   FOX  349 

said  her  son,  "  which  would  be  injurious  to  you  and 
very  unbecoming  in  me ;"  and  he  walked  out  of  the  room. 

"  Poor  old  lady !"  he  thought ;  "  she  little  dreams  of  the 
bitter  draught  which  will  follow  this  pill.  We  must  let 
her  get  breath  before  anything  of  mine  is  mentioned.  It 
is  really  hard  lines  for  her,  after  all  her  hopes,  to  find 
us  making  such  marriages  as  we  two  seem  bent  upon." 

"  I  shall  go  down  to  Fryston  to-morrow,"  he  continued ; 
"  I  wonder  if  they  have  taken  her  there  or  to  Devonshire. 
I  expect  it  has  turned  out  as  Crewdson  feared,  and  the 
old  man  has  got  scent  of  the  thing.  Serves  me  right  for 
not  doing  it  at  once.  But  he  must  give  in,  for  have  her  I 
will.  Come  in,"  he  said,  aloud,  in  answer  to  a  knock  at 
the  door.  "  Well !  you  most  inconsistent  of  all  your  in- 
consistent sex,  come  here  and  let  me  look  at  you,  that  I 
may  see  if  you  are  some  changeling,  or  still  my  very 
sister  Audrey." 

"  Oh,  Charlie,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !" 

"  Ah !  you're  longing  to  have  my  scolding  about  this 
Dynecourt  affair  over.  Now  look  at  me,  and  answer  the 
following  questions.  Have  you  well  considered  all  you 
are  going  to  give  up?  For,  according  to  mamma's  ac- 
count, you  will  have  to  do  without  a  great  many  things 
very  dear  to  you." 

Audrey  nodded  her  head. 

"  And  you  care  sufficiently  for  this  man  to  share  his 
life?" 

"  Yes,  I  feel  like  dear  old  Elia.  I  wish  I  could  throw 
the  remainder  of  our  joint  existences  into  a  heap,  that 
we  might  share  them  equally.  It  is  of  no  use  disguising 
it,  Charlie;  I  have  taken  the  disease  in  its  most  aggra- 
vated form,  and  it's  going  very  hard  with  me."  Then, 
lookmg  into  his  face,  she  said,  "  You  will  try  to  like  him, 
Charlie?  and  say  you  hope  we  may  be  happy." 


350  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  I  do  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  heart,"  he  answered, 
kissing  her.  "  And  as  for  Dynecourt,  he's  a  capital  fel- 
low, and  I  shall  be  proud  to  call  him  brother.  Why, 
Audrey,  you  crying!  I  have  not  seen  you  cry  since  you 
were  a  child.  Nonsense,  you  stupid  thing.  The  old  lady 
is  a  little  on  stilts  just  now,  but  she  will  come  all  right, 
only  give  her  time.  You  must  not  mind  her  being  dis- 
appointed ;  that  is  only  natural,  you  know.  When  do 
you  want  to  run  away  from  us?" 

"  Oh,  Geoffrey  says  as  soon  as  we  can  get  a  house.  I 
tell  him  he  is  afraid  that  I  shall  change  my  mind;  but 
there  is  no  fear  of  that  now." 

"  Well,"  said  her  brother,  "  you  know  I  will  do  all  I 
can  to  smooth  matters  for  you;  and  if  mamma  is  cross, 
we  must  not  seem  to  notice  it." 

So,  acting  on  this  principle,  they  tried  to  make  them- 
selves pleasant  and  agreeable  during  dinner,  but  Lady 
Laura  would  have  none  of  their  amenities.  She  wore 
her  most  injured  air,  and  seldom  spoke,  unless  to  beg 
her  daughter  not  to  laugh,  as  it  jarred  upon  her  nerves ; 
or  to  ask  her  son  not  to  speak  quite  so  loud,  as  her  head 
would  not  stand  it. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

TRUE   TO   EACH    OTHER 

"  Audrey,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  as  they  sat  chat- 
ting together  next  morning  after  breakfast,  "  I've  some- 
thing to  tell  you.  Do  you  know  I  am  more  in  love  than 
I  ever  was  before  ?" 

"  You  in  love !     Nonsense,  Charlie — not  seriously  ?" 

"  Yes,  seriously,"  he  replied,  stretching  himself,  so  as 
to  appear  quite  at  his  ease ;  "  so  much  so  that  I  have 
asked  the  girl  to  marry  me." 

"  Who  is  she  ?"  exclaimed  Audrey,  in  amazement. 
"  Any  one  I  know  ?    Not  Miss  Bingham  ?" 

"  No,"  laughed  her  brother,  "  I  think  she  had  better 
marry  old  Ford,  as  a  sort  of  squaring  up  of  matters 
properly.    But  it's  somebody  you  have  seen." 

"  Some  one  I  have  seen.  Oh  1  I  should  never  guess, 
Charlie,  unless  it  be  Edith  Stapleton;  but  then  she  has 
only  been  a  widow  three  weeks." 

"  Don't  be  absurd,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle ;  "  what 
should  put  her  into  your  head  ?" 

"  Why,  because  you  were  so  desperately  in  love  with 
her  once.  I  remember  when  you  heard  she  was  going  to 
marry  Colonel  Stapleton  you  were  frantic,  and  walked 
in  front  of  her  window  almost  a  whole  night." 

"Yes,  I  recollect  that  too,"  laughed  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle ;  "  that  night  cured  me.  I  got  a  horrid  cold,  and 
sneezed  all  the  love  out  of  my  head  I  suppose,  for  cer- 
tainly it  had  never  got  beyond  that  weak  part  of  my 
body." 

351 


352  DOROTHY   FOX 

"  And  this  is,  you  think,  a  different  phase  of  the  ten- 
der passion  ?  You  have  had  much  experience,  you  know, 
CharHe,  within  my  memory." 

"  Yes,  but  all  differing  from  this.  I  know  that  naturally 
I  am  a  very  selfish  fellow,  but  somehow  I  feel  I  could  give 
up  everything  for  the  sake  of  this  girl." 

"  Do  tell  me  who  she  is,  Charles ;  then  I  shall  know 
whether  I  am  to  put  faith  in  you," 

"  Well,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  feeling  rather  ner- 
vous, "  you  remember  that  pretty  Quaker  child  we  saw  at 
Plymouth?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then,  regardless  of  grammar,  that's  her." 

"  Now  I  know  you  are  laughing,"  said  Audrey,  puzzled 
to  understand  what  he  meant. 

"  Indeed  I  am  not,  I  am  quite  serious.  I  will  tell  you 
all  about  it.  When  in  London,  after  leaving  Dyne  Court, 
I  went  to  the  Paddington  station  to  inquire  about  my 
boxes ;  there,  to  my  surprise,  I  met  Mrs,  Fox  and  her 
daughter.  They  had  come  up  to  visit  another  daughter, 
a  Mrs.  Hanbury,  who  lives  at  Fryston.  And  seeing  they 
were  in  a  dilemma  because  of  not  meeting  her  as  they  had 
expected,  I,  in  return  for  their  kindness  to  me,  volunteered 
to  conduct  them  safely  to  Shoreditch.  Mrs.  Hanbury 
took  me  for  a  friend  of  her  mother's,  and  invited  me  to 
dinner.  As  I  was  alone,  and  did  not  know  very  well  how 
to  pass  my  time,  I  accepted,  and  went  down  the  next  day. 
I  found  they  lived  in  a  charming  house,  knew  very  nice 
people — Dynecourt,  by  the  way,  visited  there — and  al- 
together were  a  most  refined  and  agreeable  family.  Miss 
Fox  was  going  to  remain  there,  and  perhaps  that  induced 
me  to  make  another  visit  to  them,  and  so  it  went  on  until 
I  found  myself  over  head  and  ears  in  love.  At  first  I 
thought  it  would  share  the  fate  of  my  other  amours,  and 


DOROTHY   FOX  353 

the  flame  would  die  out  before  it  was  well  kindled.  But 
instead  of  that  it  has  gone  on  increasing,  until  I  am  wor- 
ried with  fears  that  her  bigoted  old  father,  who  has  a 
horror  of  soldiers,  won't  give  his  consent,  and  the  child, 
I  believe,  would  be  frightened  to  death  at  the  idea  of 
marrying  without  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  asked  her  father  ?" 
said  Audrey,  in  amazement. 

"  Of  course  I  have.  What  else  would  you  have  me  to 
do?"  replied  her  brother,  sharply. 

"  Well,  I  suppose,  nothing,"  said  Audrey ;    "  only  I 

wonder  if  you  remember "   and  she   stopped,   not 

knowing  how  to  finish  her  sentence. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle, 
in  a  defiant  voice ;  "  you  wonder  because  he  keeps  a  shop ; 
and  suppose  he  does,  what  difference  does  that  make  to 
her,  or  to  my  love  for  her  ?  She  is  as  much  a  lady  in  edu- 
cation, thought,  and  feeling  as  any  one  I  know." 

"  Oh !  I  am  sure  of  that,  Charlie.  You  remember  how 
much  I  admired  her,  and  how  astonished  I  was  to  find 
that  you  had  not  been  more  impressed  with  her  beauty. 
Still,  I  must  say  I  am  surprised  at  your  having  overcome 
all  the  notions  you  have  hitherto  held.  It  will  be  very 
awkward  for  you ;  everybody  will  naturally  ask  '  who 
was  she  ?' " 

"  Well !  and  let  them  ask.  I  do  not  care.  If  they  have 
no  more  feeling  for  me  than  that,  T  am  well  rid  of  such 
friends.  Am  I  to  break  the  heart  of  a  dear,  sweet,  loving 
girl,  who,  I  know,  would  make  my  whole  life  good  and 
happy,  because  her  father  does  not  happen  to  have  a 
position  in  the  great  world?  Suppose  Dynecourt's 
father,  or  Dynecourt  himself,  kept  a  shop,  what  would 
you  do?" 

"Help  him  in  the  business  now,  my  dear;   but  had 

23 


354  DOROTHY   FOX 

such  been  the  case  I  am  not  quite  certain  that  I  should 
have  so  readily  fallen  in  love  with  him." 

"  Had  I  seen  Dorothy  surrounded  by  anything  but  re- 
finement, neither  should  I.  Remember  when  I  first  saw 
her  and  mistook  the  servant  for  her  mother,  I  never  gave 
her  a  thought.  But  when  I  met  her  and  her  relations, 
perfect  in  manner  and  breeding,  and  with  all  the  luxuries 
and  elegancies  of  wealth  about  them,  the  whole  thing  was 
changed.  In  the  same  way  you  thanked  Mr.  Ford  for 
the  honour  he  had  conferred  on  you  by  proposing  that 
you  should  become  the  mistress  of  Dyne  Court.  But  had 
he  kept  the  establishment  of  his  early  days  and  walked 
from  behind  the  counter  to  entreat  you  to  be  Mrs.  Richard 
Ford,  you  would  have  told  him  he  was  ready  for  a  lunatic 
asylum,  or  he  could  never  have  forgotten  the  difference 
between  your  station  and  his  own." 

"  Quite  true,  Charlie  dear,"  said  Audrey,  giving  him  a 
kiss.  "  Still,  you  must  forgive  me  for  expressing  some 
astonishment,  and  also  for  asking  you  whether  you  have 
considered  all  you  are  giving  up.  If  you  married  without 
money,  I  suppose  you  would  be  obliged  to  sell  out?" 

"  Yes.  But  really,  Audrey,  I  am  thoroughly  sick  of 
soldiering.  Harry  Egerton  and  I  went  into  things  the 
other  night,  and  I  should  have  about  six  hundred  a  year. 
I  would  much  rather  live  in  the  country  than  in  the  town. 
You  know  I  hate  balls  and  dinners.  I  am  getting  too 
old  for  such  things.  A  snug  little  place  and  a  sweet  little 
wife  are  a  great  deal  more  to  my  fancy  now." 

"  Oh,  you  dear  old  thing !"  laughed  his  sister,  giving 
him  another  hug.  "  I  believe  it  is  true.  Why,  you  are 
getting  absolutely  romantic.  Of  course,  she  is  dreadfully 
in  love  with  you?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  she  is,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  "  but 
the  last  time  I  saw  her  I  gave  way  to  my  abominable  tem- 


DOROTHY   FOX  355 

per  and  went  off  in  a  huff."  He  then  proceeded  to  relate 
that  the  next  morning,  being  repentant,  he  had  called,  but 
found  that  Dorothy  and  her  aunt  had  left.  "  But  I  fancy 
they  have  only  gone  to  Fryston,  and  I  shall  run  down 
there  in  an  hour's  time  to  see.  I  do  hope  the  old  man  will 
write  to  me.  I  quite  expected  to  have  had  an  answer  to 
my  letter  this  morning.  I  do  not  see  that  he  can  say 
anything  but  '  Yes,'  for,  to  satisfy  his  scruples  of  con- 
science, I  offered  to  give  up  my  profession." 

The  sister  and  brother  had  a  little  more  conversation 
about  their  future  hopes  and  plans,  and  then  Captain 
Verschoyle  started  for  Fryston.  He  would  have  felt. 
very  uneasy  about  his  reception  had  his  thoughts  not  been 
engrossed  with  Dorothy.  He  had  no  doubt  that  she 
would  forgive  him,  especially  when  he  told  her  he  had 
written  to  her  father  offering  for  her  sake  to  become  a 
man  of  peace. 

Fryston  Grange,  even  in  winter,  when  the  trees  were 
no  longer  clothed  with  their  leafy  coverings,  was  a  pretty 
place.  As  Captain  Verschoyle  walked  towards  the  house 
he  felt  he  had  very  little  to  offer  Dorothy  in  comparison 
with  the  comforti  her  sister  enjoyed.  Love  was  begin- 
ning to  work  a  complete  change  in  the  man's  nature.  It 
was  making  him  uncertain  of  his  own  merits  and  doubt- 
ful as  to  his  success.  He  had  seldom  felt  more  thoroughly 
ill  at  ease  than  he  did  during  the  few  minutes  he  sat  in 
Mrs.  Hanbury's  drawing-room,  waiting  for  her  to  make 
her  appearance. 

The  door  opened,  and  instead  of  Grace,  Dorothy  came 
to  meet  him.  How  was  it  that  Charles  Verschoyle,  feel- 
ing more  love  for  her  than  he  had  ever  done  before, 
seemed  all  at  once  utterly  incapable  of  giving  expres- 
sion to  it?  Josiah  Crewdson  himself  could  not  have  been 
more  embarrassed.    He  stood  holding  both  her  hands  in 


356  DOROTHY   FOX 

his  until  Dorothy  looked  into  his  face  for  the  cause  of 
his  changed  manner.  But  the  gaze  she  met  must  have 
satisfied  her,  for  the  blood  came  rushing  to  her  cheeks  as 
she  stammered, — 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  thee  again.  Grace  is  not  at  home ; 
she  has  taken  Aunt  Abigail  for  a  drive." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  this  happiness,  Dorothy,"  Captain 
Verschoyle  at  last  got  power  to  say ;  "  but  I  have  been 
wretched  since  our  last  meeting." 

And  the  next  half-hour  was  taken  up  in  listening  to  all 
the  self-inflicted  woes  and  torments  only  pleasing  to  the 
ears  of  those  for  whom  they  are  endured.  After  this, 
their  hopes  and  fears  regarding  her  father's  consent 
being  obtained  had  to  be  discussed,  and  then  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle looked  very  grave  as  he  said, — 

"  Dorothy,  I  have  done  much  that  needs  to  be  forgiven 
by  you." 

Dorothy  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Yes,"  he  added ;  "  I  fear  had  you  possessed  more 
worldly  knowledge,  and  read  me  truly,  you  would  never 
have  given  me  your  love.  I  had  no  right  to  ask  it  from 
you  when  I  did,  but  I  Was  so  anxious  to  hear  that  the 
treasure  which  I  coveted  was  mine  that  I  did  not  care 
what  you  suffered.  I  had  no  right  to  go  to  York,  or  to 
induce  you  to  go  there,  without  first  speaking  to  your 
family;  it  was  taking  advantage  of  the  trusting  inno- 
cence of  a  child — for  such  you  are  compared  with  me, 
Dorothy.  And  it  was  selfishness  that  took  me  to  Leeds, 
causing  me  to  be  utterly  unmindful  of  how  much  you 
might  suflFer  for  it.  Oh,  my  darling!  I  cannot  forgive 
myself." 

"  But  I  can  forgive  thee,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand 
into  his.  "  I  too  acted  wrongly  in  going  to  see  the  Crewd- 
sons,  because  I  knew  father  would  not  approve  of  thee; 


DOROTHY   FOX  357 

but,  Charles,  thoo  hast  told  him  thou  wilt  g^ve  up  being 
a  soldier?" 

"  Yes,  dear.  Dorothy,  I  have  but  little  to  offer  you.  I 
am  but  a  poor  man,  as  well  as  a  very  indifferent  and 
selfish  one." 

She  put  her  hand  across  his  mouth,  saying, — 

"  Thou  shalt  not  say  so  to  me." 

"Ah!  but  it  is  true,"  he  laughed,  delighted  at  her 
sweet  contradiction;  "but  if  my  Dolly  will  but  try,  I 
think  she  will  make  me,  if  not  a  Quaker,  at  least  a  better 
and  a  happier  man." 

An  hour  passed  before  Captain  Verschoyle  rose  to  go. 
"  I  shall  now  see  Mr.  Hanbury,"  he  said,  "  and  you  will 
tell  your  sister  I  came  purposely  to  talk  to  her,  and  that 
if  she  will  permit  me  I  shall  come  again  on  Wednesday 
or  Thursday,  or  whenever  I  hear  from  your  father."  He 
held  her  from  him,  and,  looking  into  her  face,  said,  ear- 
nestly, "  He  cannot,  I  think,  say  '  No ;'  but,  Dorothy,  if  he 
should,  would  you  give  me  up  ?" 

"  No,  Charles,  I  cannot  take  back  my  love.  Whatever 
comes  now,  it  is  thine  for  ever." 

"  Then  mine  is  yours ;  and,  child,  if  we  are  but  true  to 
each  other,  surely  God  will  help  us." 


CHAPTER   XL 

SUCCESSFUL  DIPLOMACY 

When  Captain  Verschoyle  next  met  Mr.  Egerton,  he 
told  his  old  friend  that  he  had  seen  Dorothy  at  Fryston, 
and  had  made  all  straight  with  John  Hanbury.  "  He 
does  not  give  me  much  hope  of  obtaining  Mr,  Fox's 
consent,"  he  said.  "  It  seems  he  had  set  his  heart  upon 
his  daughter  marrying  young  Crewdson,  who  is  uncom- 
monly rich,  so  I  daresay,  besides  his  horror  at  having 
a  soldier  for  a  son-in-law,  he  will  think  I  have  not  money 
enough." 

"  Horror !"  repeated  the  old  gentleman.  "  Why  should 
a  parcel  of  Quakers  turn  up  their  noses  at  honest  men 
because  they're  soldiers?  Confound  their  ingratitude. 
If  I  come  across  old  Fox  I'll  give  him  a  bit  of  my  mind. 
His  principles,  forsooth !  What  would  have  been  the 
good  of  his  principles  in  Siberia  or  some  such  outlandish 
place,  where  we  might  all  have  been  in  prison  now  had  it 
not  been  for  such  as  you  ?  though  I  daresay,"  he  added, 
fearing  he  was  scattering  his  praise  too  freely,  "  you  did 
not  manage  to  find  yourself  in  front  when  the  fighting 
began." 

Captain  Verschoyle  laughed  at  this  imputation  on  his 
gallantry,  and  the  old  man  continued, — 

"  James  Allan,  of  York,  is  a  connection  of  the  Foxes, 
and  I  was  asking  about  them ;  he  says  they  are  very 
wealthy  people.    Of  course,  you  know  that?" 

"  No.  I  do  not  believe  they  are  wealthy ;  but  I  have 
358 


DOROTHY   FOX  359 

not  given  money  a  thought.  I  have  no  doubt  they  are 
tolerably  well  off — nothing  more." 

"  Positively,  your  attachment  is  quite  Arcadian  in  its 
simplicity,"  said  Mr.  Egerton,  with  one  of  his  old  sneers. 
"  Have  you  spoken  to  your  mother  yet  ?" 

"  No ;  I  am  leaving  that  to  you.  I  was  thinking  if  we 
could  only  get  her  to  take  up  the  cudgels  we  might  gain 
an  easy  victory." 

"  A  very  sensible  idea,  by  Jove !  I  should  like  to  see 
your  mother  tackle  the  broad-brimmers." 

"If  wc  could  only  manage  an  interview  between  her 
and  Mr.  Fox,"  said  Captain  Verschoyle,  laughing  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  thought,  but  without  any  idea  of  car- 
rying it  into  practice. 

"  We'll  do  it,  Charlie,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Egerton,  de- 
lighted at  the  prospect  of  such  an  encounter,  "  and  I'll 
back  her  ladyship.  So  to-morrow  I  shall  call  at  Egmont 
Street  about  twelve  o'clock;  and  be  sure  that  you  and 
Audrey  are  out  of  the  way." 

The  scheme  which  Mr.  Egerton  had  formed  for  obtain- 
ing Lady  Laura's  consent  to  her  son's  mesalliance  was 
founded  on  the  information  he  had  obtained  in  York  re- 
specting Nathaniel  Fox  and  his  family.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  Nathaniel  was  a  rich  man,  for  to  his  own 
money  had  been  added  his  wife's  fortune.  Besides  this, 
Dorothy  would  be  certain  to  inherit  the  portion  which 
her  grandfather  had  left  to  her  Aunt  Abigail.  There- 
fore, quite  unconsciously,  Charles  had  wooed  an  heiress, 
and  Mr.  Egerton  knew  that  wealth  was  the  open  sesame 
to  Lady  Laura's  heart. 

Arrived  at  Egmont  Street,  Mr.  Egerton  put  Lady 
Laura  in  good  humour  at  once  by  saying,  apparently  to 
himself,  in  his  gruffest  voice,  "  Hm !  younger  than  ever. 
Some  people  don't  know  how  to  get  old;"    whereupon 


36o  DOROTHY   FOX 

Lady  Laura  was  most  cordial  in  her  greeting,  and  be- 
came quite  interested  in  an  attack  of  gout  he  had  lately 
suffered  from. 

At  length  he  said,  "  Oh !  by  the  way,  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  congratulate  you  on  getting  rid  of  that  shop-chandler 
son-in-law  whom  Audrey  had  set  her  mind  upon  giving 
you  when  I  last  heard  from  you." 

Lady  Laura  winced. 

"  Abominable  old  bear,"  she  thought ;  "  he  wants  to 
annoy  me,  but  he  shall  not  be  gratified  by  seeing  it,"  so 
without  appearing  at  all  vexed  she  said,  "  Thanks — al- 
though I  do  not  know  that  I  care  much  for  the  exchange 
she  has  made." 

"  Well,  but  Dynecourt  comes  of  an  excellent  fan\ily," 
continued  Mr.  Egerton. 

"  Granted ;  only  when  people  are  not  worth  a  penny, 
their  family  is  of  little  importance." 

"  Still,  you  would  rather  have  a  man  of  your  own  class 
for  a  son-in-law,  I  suppose." 

"  I  should  not  have  objected  to  Mr.  Ford,"  said  Lady 
Laura,  smiling  blandly ;  "  and  I  wonder  at  your  asking 
me  about  it.  I  thought  you  were  so  fond  of  the  bour- 
geoisie that  you  considered  they  conferred  honour  upon 
us  in  the  alliances  which  we  formed  with  them." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Mr.  Egerton.  "  I 
think  they  generally  get  the  worst  of  the  bargain." 

Lady  Laura  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  look  upon 
the  matter  as  a  fair  exchange,"  she  said.  "  If  they  did 
not  want  blood,  they  would  not  marry  us ;  and  if  we  did 
not  want  money,  assuredly  we  should  never  marry  them. 
Had  I  a  fortune  to  give  to  Audrey  and  Charles,  I  should 
expect  they  would  make  their  choice  from  their  own  set. 
But  as  wealth  has  been  denied  to  us,  I  do  not  consider 
that  my  son  or  my  daughter  will  lose  caste  if  they  marry 


DOROTHY   FOX  361 

persons  connected  with  business,  provided  their  fortunes 
are  sufficiently  ample  to  silence  people's  remarks,  or  give 
a  soupgon  of  envy  to  those  they  make." 

"  Very  sensibly  put,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Egerton.  "  I  wish 
I  had  only  known  that  your  sentiments  were  so  liberal, 
Lady  Laura.  I  always  imagined  you  had  a  horror  of 
everybody  connected  with  trade." 

"  Well,  trade  is  an  odious  word,  certainly ;  but  no  one 
regards  a  wealthy  man,  like  Mr.  Ford,  for  instance,  as  a 
common  shopkeeper." 

"  Still,  I  have  heard  that  he  kept  a  shop,  or  his  father 
did  before  him." 

"  Oh,  dear !"  exclaimed  Lady  Laura,  raising  her  hand 
with  a  deprecatory  movement.  "  In  these  days  of  par- 
venus fathers  are  ignored,  and  it  is  the  worst  possible' 
taste  to  talk  of  any  family  but  your  own;  if  that  hap- 
pens to  be  good,  speak  of  it  by  all  means,  for  these  people 
worship  rank  and  breeding." 

"  Two  things  their  money  can't  buy,  eh  ?" 

"  Of  course  not.  They  must  gain  them  by  reflection, 
so  they  marry  into  good  families — a  very  laudable  thing 
too;  they  are  then  received  into  society  on  account  of 
the  wife's  or  husband's  standing." 

"  Ah !  I  wish  I  had  known  your  opinions  before,"  said 
Mr.  Egerton,  mysteriously. 

"  Why  ?    For  what  reason  ?" 

"  Well,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  a  charming  air  of 
candour,  "  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  speak  of  it ;  but  I  hate 
secrets,  and  as  you're  his  mother,  it  cannot  much  matter." 

Lady  Laura  threw  off  her  nonchalant  air  at  once,  and 
gave  undivided  attention  to  Mr.  Egerton's  conversation. 

"  It  appears  that  some  time  ago  Charlie's  fancy  was 
taken  by  a  very  pretty  girl  he  saw.  He  found  that  her 
father  was  a  woollen  manufacturer,  or  something  of  that 


362  DOROTHY   FOX 

sort,  in  the  West  of  England,  so  he  tried  to  forget  her. 
At  York,  however,  they  met  by  accident  again,  and  then 
he  told  me  about  it,  saying,  as  he  knew  you  would  never 
receive  her,  he  should  try  to  overcome  his  affection." 

"  Most  certainly  not,"  said  Lady  Laura,  firmly. 

"  Oh !  well  then,  that's  all  right ;  for  since  you  have 
been  talking  I  have  been  wondering  if  I  had  been  to 
blame  in  the  matter." 

"You  to  blame!     How?" 

"  Well,  of  course,  I  made  inquiries  about  the  family, 
for  her  aunt  happens  to  be  a  neighbour  of  mine.  And, 
by  Jove !  I  discovered  they  are  very  wealthy  people.  The 
girl  will  have  a  large  fortune  from  her  father,  besides 
her  mother's  money  and  this  maiden  aunt's." 

"  You  don't  say  so !"  exclaimed  Lady  Laura.  "  What 
did  Charles  say?" 

"  Oh !  I  have  never  told  him.  I  thought,  if  I  did,  per- 
haps he  wouldn't  agree  to  give  her  up." 

"  And  why  on  earth  should  he  if  she  has  all  this 
money  ?" 

"  Why,  as  I  told  you,  her  father  is  a  tradesman :  may 
keep  a  draper's  shop  for  anything  I  know." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Egerton,  now  you  are  too  absurd.  You 
know  what  Charles's  income  is,  and  how  extravagant  his 
habits  are.  Unless  he  marries  a  girl  with  money,  what 
is  he  to  do?  He  is  tired  of  being  a  soldier,  and  wants  a 
home;  and  how  is  he  to  get  one?  If  the  girl  is  at  all 
decent,  and  has  a  fortune,  and  such  prospects  as  you 
describe,  he  could  not  do  better  than  marry  her.  And 
he  ought  to  know  that  I  have  his  happiness  too  much  at 
heart  to  put  any  obstacle  in  his  way." 

Mr.  Egerton 's  brown  eyes  grew  quite  bright,  and 
twinkled  at  the  success  of  his  scheme. 

"  You  really  surprise  me ;   I  thought  you  would  have 


DOROTHY   FOX  363 

been  distracted  about  it,"  he  said.  "  And  you  have  not 
heard  all  yet — they  are  Quakers !" 

"  Quakers !"  echoed  Lady  Laura.  "  What,  those  people 
who  wear  the  horrid  bonnets  and  grey  gowns?  Ohl 
Charles  must  have  known  she  had  money.  No  man  could 
fall  in  love  with  a  woman  disguised  in  that  manner.  Im- 
possible !" 

"  Is  it?  I  can  tell  you,  my  dear  lady,  I  have  not  seen 
anything  so  sweet  for  a  very  long  time ;  she's  as  fresh  as 
a  blush  rose.  If  all  the  women  are  like  her,  I  ought  to 
thank  my  stars  I  was  not  brought  up  a  broad-brimmer." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  her  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  she  was  staying  at  Leeds  with  some  people  I 
know,  and  I  offered  to  escort  her  to  York,  knowing 
nothing  about  Charlie,  you  see." 

"  And  Charles  likes  the  girl,  and  you  know  she  has 
lots  of  money,  and  is  charming,  and  yet  you  are  allowing 
her  to  slip  through  his  fingers.  What  absurd  notions  men 
take  into  their  heads,  to  be  sure !  This,  I  suppose,  then, 
was  the  cause  of  his  giving  up  Miss  Bingham  and  her 
i5o,ooo?" 

"  Well,  if  he  can  get  this  girl,  he  need  never  repent 
that  sacrifice." 

"You  don't  mean  it?"  replied  Lady  Laura,  delighted. 
"  But  have  you  made  every  inquiry  ?  Is  your  authority 
reliable?"  ' 

"  Oh !  her  mother's  family  have  lived  about  York  for 
years;  they  are  very  quiet  people,  spending  little,  and 
this  girl's  father  married  twice,  each  time  a  lady  with 
money.  The  Quakers  are  generally  moneyed  folk,  you 
know.    The  girl's  mother  was  the  second  wife." 

"  And  Charles  really  admires  her,  and  is  trying  to  over- 
come it  on  my  account  ?"  said  Lady  Laura.    "  Dear  boy  1" 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  must  not  give  him  too  much  credit 


364  DOROTHY    FOX 

for  self-denial !"  laughed  the  old  gentleman.  "  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  he  has  proposed  for  her,  and  her  father 
refuses  his  consent." 

"And  why?  For  what?"  exclaimed  her  ladyship,  in- 
dignantly. 

"  The  reason  he  gives  is,  that  Charles  is  a  soldier,  and 
not  a  Quaker." 

"  Oh !  those  reasons  can  be  easily  overcome,"  replied 
Lady  Laura,  confidentially.  "  Charles  already  intends  to 
give  up  his  profession,  which  the  old  man  need  not  know, 
and  therefore  will  take  as  a  concession  to  his  wishes. 
Then  he  can  go  to  the  chapel  with  them  for  a  little  time ; 
that  is  often  done.  Sir  Francis  Charlton  always  went  to 
early  prayers  with  that  rich  Miss  Jones  until  they  were 
married,  and  I  am  sure  those  Dalrymple  girls  went  for 
months  to  some  little  conventicle  because  they  wanted  to 
catch  Lard  Kilmarsh.  I  took  Audrey  there  once,  and  I 
thought  I  should  have  died.  However,  we  never  went 
again,  for  before  the  end  of  the  next  week  we  heard  he 
had  married  his  old  tutor's  daughter.  Oh !  that  can  easily 
be  managed.  I  must  have  a  talk  with  Charles.  I  shall 
tell  him  I  feel  much  hurt  at  his  want  of  confidence  in 
his  mother.  My  children  never  seem  to  comprehend  that 
the  one  object  of  my  life  has  been  to  make  them  happy." 

"  It  was  rather  rash  of  him,  though,"  said  Mr.  Egerton, 
"  to  propose  without  knowing  whether  the  girl  had  a 
penny." 

"  But  don't  you  think  he  must  have  known  something 
of  it?"  replied  Lady  Laura. 

"  No ;  for  he  does  not  believe  it  now.  The  real  motive 
which  the  father  has  for  refusing  Charles  is,  that  he 
wants  his  daughter  to  marry  a  man  to  whom  she  was  half 
engaged  when  she  met  Charles — a  man  of  enormous 
wealth." 


DOROTHY   FOX  365 

"Now,  is  not  that  exactly  like  those  rich  people?" 
asked  her  ladyship,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  They  are  so 
fearfully  avaricious;  all  they  think  about  is  money. 
Odious  old  man !    And  he  would  sacrifice  his  daughter  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  without  a  scruple,"  replied  Mr.  Egerton. 
"  Her  father  thinks  he  ought  to  choose  her  husband  for 
her." 

"  Absurd !"  exclaimed  her  ladyship.  "  But  what  is 
their  name?" 

"  Fox.  The  other  members  of  the  family  favour 
Charles ;  only  the  old  man  seems  to  be  against  him." 

"  Well,  I  call  it  very,  very  unkind  of  Charles,"  said 
Lady  Laura,  "  to  allow  all  this  to  go  on  without  men- 
tioning it  to  his  mother." 

"  Well,  I  daresay  he  would  have  done  so,  but  he  thought 
you  had  been  worried  enough  lately.  But  now  I  shall 
tell  him  I  have  spoken  to  you,  and  that  he  had  better  act 
upon  your  advice,  which  we  know  is  generally  correct." 

Mr.  Egerton  and  Lady  Laura  parted  mutually  pleased 
with  each  other — he  at  the  success  of  his  undertaking, 
she  at  the  prospect  of  her  son  securing  a  rich  wife.  For 
her  ill  fortune  with  Audrey  had  shaken  her  confidence 
and  made  her  fear  that  Charles  would  also  disappoint  her 
hopes.  She  saw  now  that  these  fears  were  not  ground- 
less. According  to  Harry  Egerton's  account  he  was  par- 
tially ignorant  of  the  girl's  expectations  (not  that  she 
quite  believed  that) — still,  it  savoured  of  imprudence  to 
propose  without  consulting  her,  and  the  sooner  he  mar- 
ried the  better. 

So  Lady  Laura  was  impatient  until  she  saw  Captain 
Verschoyle.  She  then  acted  with  much  caution,  speaking 
of  little  else  than  her  great  love  for  him,  her  desire  to  see 
him  settled,  and  her  readiness  to  promote  his  happiness 
in  every  way.    She  readily  acceded  to  his  request  that  she 


366  DOROTHY   FOX 

would  call  upon  the  Hanburys  when  Mr,  Fox's  consent 
was  obtained,  and  fixed  the  following  Thursday  for  her 
visit.  "  You  can  write  and  say  that  we  are  coming, 
Charles,  and  that  will  remove  the  awkwardness  of  a  first 
meeting." 

This  prospect,  and  a  letter  from  Miss  Brocklehurst, 
somewhat  softened  her  towards  Audrey,  who,  she  now 
knew,  had  already  met  Miss  Fox.  Audrey  praised  the 
young  lady's  beauty,  described  the  house  and  grounds, 
and  did  all  in  her  power  to  strengthen  her  mother's 
favourable  opinion  of  the  match. 

"  When  I  call  I  shall  take  you  with  me,"  said  Lady 
Laura,  "  and  remember  that  we  go  very  quietly  dressed. 
You  can  put  on  your  brown  silk,  and  I  shall  wear  black, 
and  Marshall  must  take  the  feather  out  of  my  bonnet." 

"  Really,  mamma,"  said  Audrey,  "  I  do  not  see  any 
necessity  for  that." 

"  I  daresay  you  do  not ;  but  however  little  you  may 
have  appreciated  it,  I  have  made  it  my  rule  through  life 
never  to  consider  myself  when  the  happiness  or  interest 
of  my  children  was  at  stake.  When  I  visit  these  people 
I  shall  adapt  myself  as  much  as  possible  to  their  habits 
and  manners,  and  I  trust,  for  your  brother's  sake,  Au- 
drey, that  you  will  endeavour  to  do  the  same." 


CHAPTER   XLI 

"which  is  it  to  be?" 

Audrey  did  not  require  to  don  her  most  sober-looking 
dress,  and  Lady  Laura's  bonnet  continued  to  be  adorned 
by  the  feather,  for  the  visit  to  Fryston  had  to  be  post- 
poned. Next  iporning's  post  brought  a  most  decided 
refusal  of  Captain  Verschoyle's  suit,  to  which  Nathaniel 
Fox  said  his  conscience  and  his  principles  alike  forbade 
him  to  listen. 

Captain  Verschoyle  went  at  once  to  Mr.  Hanbury's 
office,  but  was  told  that  John  had  not  been  there  that 
morning.  This  decided  him  to  take  the  train  to  Fryston, 
and  on  reaching  the  Grange  he  learnt  from  Grace  that  on 
the  previous  evening  her  father  had  arrived  from  Leeds, 
and  had  that  morning  started  for  King's-heart,  taking 
Dorothy  with  him.  "  She  left  this  note  for  you,"  said 
Grace,  "  and  I  need  not  tell  you  in  what  distress  the  poor 
child  was.  I  fear  this  is  a  hopeless  case.  Captain  Ver- 
schoyle." 

Captain  Verschoyle  read  Dorothy's  note,  and  then  he 
set  his  face  firmly,  as  one  who  makes  a  strong  resolve. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Hanbury,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  not  hopeless, 
and  never  shall  be  as  long  as  your  sister  is  true  to  what 
she  says  here.  She  bids  me  hope  on,  and  I  will  hope 
ever,  and  I  believe  we  shall  yet  conquer." 

So  it  was  agreed  that  Charles  Verschoyle  should  con- 
tinue his  visits  to  Fryston,  There  he  would  get  all  the 
tidings  they  could  give  him  of  Dorothy,  and  of  the  suc- 

367 


368  DOROTHY    FOX 

cess  of  her  plan  to  soften  her  father  and  get  their  wish 
granted. 

Nathaniel  Fox  had  gone  to  Leeds  to  see  Josiah  Crewd- 
son,  and  learn  from  him  the  reason  for  his  assertion  that 
Dorothy,  with  her  father's  consent,  was  engaged  to  marry 
Charles  Verschoyle.  So  taxed,  Josiah  had  told  Nathaniel 
the  whole  story,  and  his  motive  for  thus  silencing  his 
sisters'  indignant  wrath.  The  old  man  had  thanked  him 
for  dealing  so  kindly  with  them,  and  after  a  time,  seeing 
that  either  he  must  bear  the  blame  of  inconsistency,  or 
his  daughter  the  shame  of  indecorum  and  levity,  he  de- 
cided to  take  refuge  in  that  stronghold  of  Friends'  prin- 
ciples— silence.  He  would  be  silent  to  the  rebukes ;  listen 
— without  defending  himself — to  the  condemnation ;  and 
bear  whatever  blame  the  members  of  the  Society  chose 
to  accord  to  him;  all  this  his  conscience  allowed.  But 
to  permit  his  daughter  to  marry  a  man  of  whom  he  knew 
nothing,  and  who  belonged  to  a  profession  which  he  con- 
sidered ungodly  and  profane,  was  not  to  be  thought  of; 
therefore  he  decidedly  said  "  No."  Josiah  tried  every 
argument  to  move  him,  but  in  vain ;  he  only  made  him 
say,  angrily,  that  he  had  no  reason  to  plead  the  cause  of  a 
woman  who  had  treated  him  so  unfairly. 

"  No,"  said  Josiah,  "  not  so.  She  told  me  and  thee 
she  would  strive  to  do  as  we  wished.  I  believe  she  did 
strive  and  failed.  I  feel  that  I  could  have  no  chance  with 
such  a  man  as  Charles  Verschoyle,  who,  though  a  soldier, 
is  no  mere  worldling.  Never  think  I  feel  angry  with 
Dorothy.  Though  she  could  not  give  me  her  love,  she 
stirred  up  something  within  me  which  has  given  me  a 
hope  that  some  day  I  may  again  try  my  fate,  and  by  this 
teaching,  hard  as  it  seems,  succeed  better." 

So  winter  fairly  set  in,  Christmas  went  past,  and  the 
new  year  was  born.    Audrey's  wedding  was  to  take  place 


DOROTHY   FOX  369 

within  a  week,  and  in  the  bustle  of  preparation  Lady 
Laura  ceased  to  scheme  for  obtaining  the  consent  of  that 
"  pig-headed,  avaricious,  wicked  old  man,"  as  she  per- 
sisted in  calling  Nathaniel  Fox. 

Her  ladyship  had  been  several  times  to  see  Mrs.  Han- 
bury.  Between  Grace  and  Audrey  a  mutual  liking  had 
sprung  up,  which  was  likely  to  be  increased,  as  Geoffrey 
Dynecourt  had  decided  upon  taking  a  house  at  Fryston. 

All  Lady  Laura  saw  and  learnt  from  Grace  confirmed 
her  belief  that  Dorothy  was  worth  the  exertions  which 
she  considered  she  was  urging  her  son  to  make.  So  she 
decided  that  whenever  Audrey  was  fairly  off  her  hands 
she  would  strain  every  nerve  to  bring  matters  to  a  favour- 
able conclusion. 

Captain  Verschoyle,  on  his  part,  was  willing  to  listen 
to  any  scheme  likely  to  give  him  what  was  now  the  one 
desire  and  wish  of  his  life;  but  as  week  after  week 
rolled  on  he  grew  more  despondent.  He  had  written  to 
Mr.  Egerton  saying  that  this  suspense  was  so  unen- 
durable that  he  should  come  down  to  Darington  to  con- 
sult him.  A  letter  which  he  received  at  this  time  from 
Lord  Morpeth  offering  him,  if  he  still  thought  of  selling 
out,  a  colonial  appointment,  caused  him  to  resolve  upon 
at  once  deciding  his  fate,  and  he  started  the  next  day  for 
King's-heart. 

Dorothy  did  not  know  that  she  was  to  see  her  lover  that 
day,  or  she  would  have  fancied  that  January  had  suddenly 
changed  to  June.  As  it  was,  the  wintry  sun  striving  to 
shine  gave  her  no  gladness;  it  could  not  make  the  day 
bright  for  her.  Poor  Dorothy !  she  had  spent  two  weary 
months.  Sometimes  hope  seemed  so  bright  that  nothing 
could  extinguish  it,  at  other  times  so  dim  that  nothing 
could  rekindle  it.  Her  mother's  face  had  a  troubled, 
anxious  look,  as  if  she  knew  that  her  child  had  a  sorrow, 

24 


370  DOROTHY   FOX 

which  she  could  not  bear  for  her.  And  Dorothy's  languid 
movements  and  forced  smiles  seemed  to  add  a  sharper 
pang  to  Nathaniel's  heart. 

The  unusually  loud  ring  of  the  bell  did  not,  as  it  used 
to  do,  make  Dorothy  run  to  the  window,  nor  stand  on  the 
footstool  or  on  tiptoe,  to  see  who  their  visitor  might  be. 
Patience  wondered  who  it  was,  but  Dorothy  did  not  care. 
When  Lydia  opened  the  door,  it  was  Charles  Verschoyle 
who  stood  on  the  threshold. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  either  Dorothy  or  he 
remembered  more  than  that  they  had  met  again.  After 
some  little  time  had  elapsed,  Captain  Verschoyle  told  his 
errand,  and  then  he  turned  to  Patience  and  said, — 

"  Mrs.  Fox,  you  are  aware  that  my  greatest  wish  is  to 
have  Dorothy  for  my  wife.  I  asked  her  father  for  his 
consent,  and  he  refused  it  because  I  was  a  soldier.  In 
deference  to  his  scruples,  I  offered  to  give  up  my  pro- 
fession— still  he  refused.  I  have  waited  for  two  months 
hoping  he  would  alter  his  decision,  but  he  remains  ob- 
stinate. Yesterday  morning  my  uncle  offered  me  a  de- 
sirable appointment,  and  I  have  come  here  to  know 
whether  I  shall  accept  or  refuse  it.  I  have  no  wish  to 
influence  Dorothy  to  disobey  her  father,  but  if  she  loves 
me  as  I  love  her,  she  will  now  consent  to  be  my  wife, 
and  I  shall  accept  Lord  Morpeth's  offer.  But  if  she  feels 
that  she  cannot  disregard  her  father's  wish,  and  that  her 
love  for  me  is  not  strong  enough  to  overcome  all  obstacles, 
I  shall  remain  in  my  profession.  And  as  these  rumours 
of  disaffection  in  India  will  cause  many  regiments  to  be 
sent  there,  I  shall  at  once  apply  for  foreign  service.  This 
suspense  has  become  to  me  unendurable.  I  feel  it  would 
either  kill  me  or  kill  my  love.  Besides,  after  a  certain 
point  I  consider  that  even  parental  obedience  has  a  limit. 
We  are  all  agreed  that  human  love  is  not  the  growth  of 


DOROTHY   FOX  371 

human  will.  Surely  hearts,  not  hands,  are  meant  when 
it  is  said,  '  What  God  hath  joined  together  let  not  man 
•put  asunder.'  Dorothy,"  he  continued,  looking  beseech- 
ingly towards  her,  "  you  have  heard  what  I  have  said, 
your  heart  will  decide ;  tell  me,  which  is  it  to  be  ?" 

"  I  will  be  thine,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  in  his. 
"  Oh  mother !"  she  cried,  "  remember  what  thou  once 
told  me  I  ought  to  feel.  I  do  feel  all  that,  and  much 
more  towards  him.  It  is  not  want  of  love  to  thee  and 
father  which  makes  me  choose  as  I  do.  Thou  must  for- 
give me !" 

"  I  do,  my  child,"  said  Patience.  "  I  shall  never  blame 
thee,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  soften  thy  father;  but 
before  I  can  say  more  on  this  subject  he  must  be  con- 
sulted. Charles  Verschoyle  had  better  go  to  Plymouth 
and  speak  to  thy  father,  and  tell  him  what  thou  hast  said 
in  my  presence.  And  when  he  comes  home  thou  must  be 
frank,  and  give  him  thy  decision,  with  thy  reasons  for 
making  it." 

Captain  Verschoyle  carried  out  this  arrangement,  and 
the  result  was  that  after  a  lengthy  and  stormy  interview 
Nathaniel  demanded  three  days  for  consideration,  during 
which  time  Charles  Verschoyle  should  hold  no  communi- 
cation with  Dorothy ;  then  he  would  give  his  answer. 

To  this  Captain  Verschoyle  was  obliged  to  consent, 
although  it  was  just  then  rather  hard  upon  him,  as  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  stay  in  Plymouth  and  hear  it.  The 
day  on  which  Nathaniel's  decision  was  to  be  given  Au- 
drey had  fixed  for  her  wedding;  a  wedding  that,  not- 
withstanding all  Lady  Laura's  arguments  against  it,  was 
to  be  a  very  quiet  one. 

All  her  ladyship's  anger  had  vanished.  She  was  well 
up  in  the  Dynecourt  pedigree,  and  after  giving  some 
parvenu  friend  or  money-seeking  mother  a  history  of 


372  DOROTHY   FOX 

their  long  descent  from  almost  royal  ancestors,  she  would 
end  by  saying,  "  Of  course  I  can  say  nothing  to  Audrey, 
for  I  made  a  love-match  myself,  and  refused  the  most 
eligible  partis  of  that  season  for  her  dear  father.  Girls 
can  very  seldom  secure  everything.  One  must  generally 
give  up  family  or  money,  and  I  am  quite  content  with  the 
choice  Audrey  has  made ;  for,  after  all,  money  only  buys 
toleration" 

Happiness  gave  to  Audrey's  face  a  softness  which  had 
been  often  wanting  before,  and  when  the  wedding-party 
returned  from  church  Miss  Brocklehurst  declared  that 
Audrey  Dynecourt  was  better  looking  than  ever  Audrey 
Verschoyle  had  been.  Mr.  Ford,  by  his  own  desire,  was 
present,  and  he  and  Miss  Brocklehurst  paid  each  other 
so  many  compliments,  and  were  so  determined  to  meet 
again,  that  Audrey  whispered  she  thought  she  should  call 
him  "  Godpapa." 

Captain  Verschoyle  was  in  the  highest  spirits,  for 
Nathaniel's  answer  had  come.  He  gave  way  at  last, 
though  under  great  protest.  Only  on  condition  that 
Charles  Verschoyle  would  wait  a  year  for  her,  and 
promise  not  to  take  her  out  of  England,  should  Dorothy 
be  his  wife. 

Lady  Laura  announced  the  fact  herself  to  the  assem- 
bled guests,  and  asked  them  to  give  her  their  congratula- 
tions. "  You  are  my  true  friends,"  she  said,  "  and  know 
that  my  one  object  in  life  has  been  my  children's  welfare. 
In  the  choice  each  has  made  they  have  followed  the  dic- 
tates of  their  own  hearts.  And  though  they  may  not  have 
secured  all  those  worldly  advantages  which  many  con- 
sider necessary  to  enjoyment,  I,  from  experience,  can  tell 
them  that  in  marriage  love  alone  insures  happiness,  and 
having  gained  that,  come  what  may,  they  are  possessed 
of  life's  true  elixir." 


CHAPTER   XLII 

LADY   LAURA  ACCEPTS  THE  SITUATION 

Since  Audrey's  marriage-day  more  than  a  year  has 
elapsed,  spring  has  come  round,  and  Lady  Laura,  writing 
to  Lady  Spencer,  who  is  spending  the  winter  in  Rome, 
says, — 

"My  dear  Isabel, — I  delayed  writing  to  you  until  Charles's 
wedding  had  taken  place,  knowing  the  kind  interest  you  take  in 
all  that  concerns  me  and  mine.  And  now  I  have  another  piece 
of  news  to  tell  you,  nothing  less  than  that  I  am  a  grandmother; 
and  do  you  know?  I  do  not  mind  it  in  the  least,  but  am  rather 
proud  of  it 

"  Yes,  dear  Audrey  has  a  son — such  a  lovely  boy ;  nurse  says 
he's  exactly  like  me.  He  was  born  at  D)me  Court.  Mr.  Ford 
asked  it  as  a  particular  favour  to  him,  and  I  think  Geoffrey  was 
rather  glad,  as  for  more  than  two  hundred  years  the  eldest  child 
has  always  been  born  at  the  family  place.  I  hope  great  things 
from  this  circumstance,  but  Geoffrey  and  Audrey  will  not  hear 
it  mentioned,  and  say  she  went  there  on  the  understanding  that 
it  was  only  to  further  cement  their  friendship.  I  think  I  told  you 
the  on  dit,  that  Maria  Brocklehurst  was  to  marry  Mr.  Ford. 
At  first  I  laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  woman  of  her  age,  and  with 
such  a  good  fortune,  dreaming  of  such  a  thing.  However,  I  now 
begin  to  have  some  faith  in  the  story.  I  v.Tote  to  her  about  it, 
and  she  replied,  in  her  brusque  way,  '  That  it  would  be  wiser  for 
people  to  attend  to  their  own  affairs,  and  leave  time  to  show 
whether  there  is  any  truth  in  reports.' 

"  And  now  for  Charles.  They  were  married  on  the  loth  of  last 
month.  I  did  not  go  to  the  wedding,  as  the  weather  was  cold, 
and  Charles  was  afraid  the  journey  might  be  too  much  for  me. 
Mrs.  Hanbury,  the  bride's  sister,  tells  me  everything  went  off 
extremely  well,  and  Dorothy  looked  lovely.  Tell  Spencer  I  made 
her  adopt  the  loose  Grecian  knot  at  the  back  of  the  head,  and,  as 

373 


374  DOROTHY   FOX 

he  said,  it  made  her  perfect.  They  have  taken  a  pretty  place  in 
Essex  for  a  year,  wishing  to  be  near  Fryston,  where  Audrey  and 
the  Hanburys  live.  After  all,  Dorothy  had  a  fortune.  Her  father 
gave  her  ten  thousand  pounds  on  her  wedding  morning,  so  that 
will  make  a  nice  addition  to  their  rather  limited  income.  My 
own  plans  are  not  quite  decided.  I  think  I  shall  give  up  this 
house  and  take  apartments.  Now  that  my  children  are  settled, 
I  intend  confining  my  visiting  circle  to  my  relations  and  especial 
friends,  among  whom,  my  dear  Isabel,  you  and  your  family 
stand  pre-eminent.  I  long  for  your  return,  that  you  may  see 
Audrey.  She  is  wonderfully  improved — looks  so  handsome,  and 
is  younger  than  ever.  I  never  saw  such  devotion  as  there  is  be- 
tween her  and  Geoffrey,  and  I  am  quite  certain  that  Charles  and 
Dorothy  will  be  just  such  another  pair.  I  need  not  tell  you  what 
comfort  I  derive  from  the  contemplation  of  their  happiness,  nor 
how  thankful  I  am  that  I  was  enabled  to  cast  aside  all  my  more 
ambitious  projects  for  them.  After  all,  my  dear  Isabel,  the 
pleasures  of  the  world — rank,  wealth,  fame — all  fail  to  give  us 
complete  happiness  unless  we  have  some  one  to  love  and  to  love 
us.  The  older  we  grow,  the  more  we  value  a  blessing  which  can 
sweeten  joy  and  alleviate  grief.  Now,  I  daresay  you  are  laughing 
at  me,  and  thinking  that  I  am  growing  romantic  in  my  old  days. 
Well,  perhaps  it  is  from  seeing  so  much  love-making,  or  the 
result  of  finding  myself  a  grandmother.  But  I  certainly  feel 
twenty  years  younger  than  I  did  this  time  last  year,  and  if  you 
and  dear  Spencer  would  only  make  haste  and  return  to  England, 
and  tell  me  that  I  am  looking  so,  you  would  make  perfectly 
happy, 

"  Your  most  affectionate, 

"Laura  Verschoyle." 


FINIS 


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